The Take Over, The Fanfic's Over
by Yellowfur
Summary: Third and final installment in my A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Fanfic series.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own little used within. **

**So starts the third and last installment of my little series. It has had a good little run, hasn't it? **

**I've noticed other people putting theirs up... that's cool. **

**Notes about my fic, in case you happen to be a first time reader or just for a refresher:**

**NO slash in this. No intentional yaoi at all. None. FYI: hugs, carrying unconscious people, holds used in fighting, etc., aren't slash. No matter how much you wish they were. (;**

**No really super-main OCs. The four main characters in this fic are Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andy. There are OCs... OCs galore... but none will ever become as main and storyline-impacting as the vigilantes. Sorel, maybe, but he's the main villain.**

**The T rating is mainly for violence and swearing or anything else offensive that has to do with language (sexual references... but no real sex).**

**The fic is mainly action, angst, and humor. Kind of adventure, I guess. Now that I think about it, there isn't really any romance at all. Mainly because I'm not all that good at writing romance... when I do, it feels (by that I mean the characters) either cheesy or robotic. Besides, with four main characters being men in a non-slash fic, there's not a lot of options for romance.**

**I'm sorry for the Gerard and Mikey fans, but their facetime will be decreased in this fic. But don't worry, I'm not abandoning them. I'll give you a nice overview of some people going to be in this fic... Amy Lee fans, lead-singer-of-Avenged-Sevenfold fans, you're both in luck. They will become relatively important supporting characters. 30 Seconds To Mars fans (if there are any here), you'll like what I'll be doing with them too, I think. Gym Class Heroes fans, you're in for a nasty surprise... courtesy of my cowriter. Spoilers for characters end here.**

**Ah... the ending? Indeed, every fic needs one. How will I end it? All I will say for now is that my cowriter and I have it well planned out.**

* * *

Pete stood tall, much to the surprise of his half-drunk onlookers. In this little underground fight club/bar that was ill-lit and smelling of beer, Pete was winning the round at hand, despite his opponent being not only a crowd favorite but bigger than Pete as well. 

"C'mon! Kick his puny arse!"

"Why's he gettin' up?"

"Beat the shrimpy vamp already!"

These hecklers didn't do anything to Pete but make him smile. He was winning, they were nervous, and their money was not on Pete.

The other tipsy fighter charged in the small caged-in ring. He was heavily beaten, face bleeding and body bruised. But Pete had barely suffered a couple of lucky punches. And he wouldn't suffer another, considering that his foot just made hard contact with the enraged man's face. This deemed Pete the winner.

A smiling Pete was able to exit the makeshift ring with ease (confident in his abilities, he hadn't even bothered to take his T-shirt off). "Excuse me, coming through, trying to work through this crowd…" Pete shoved through the crowd as they gave him dirty looks. "Excuse me, coming through, want my cash…"

"Hi!" An also smiling Patrick greeted Pete. "We are making more money in these few hours than I did in the entire stretch of my first job in high school," Patrick made a show of waving their earnings so far at Pete. This was unusual, considering that Patrick rarely liked to make a show of _anything_ except for his hand-made, high-tech weaponry. "This must be our lucky place or something. Good thing it's one that lets vampires fight." Patrick kept his black baseball cap (another one of his ever-present caps) shadowing his eyes, whether to look more mysterious for the part of the one handling the bets or just because he was used to it drooping into his eyes after years of this.

Pete looked over at Andrew and Joe, who were standing besides Patrick. "You're up, Andrew,"

"Again?" Andrew made a face. "Wasn't I just up a few minutes ago?"

"YES," Joe answered for Pete. "Doesn't change the fact that we are plowing through these drunken people who think they can beat us in mere minutes."

Andrew whined and walked over to the ring. Pete didn't bother turning his attention to the fight; he knew they would win in any and all of the matches they were in. Patrick was quickly making bets on Andrew.

Joe was drinking a bottle of beer. But this wasn't enough to keep him occupied. "Patrick, what are we doing after this?"

"I just told you a minute ago! We're going to go get that RV from the guys in the junk yard. Then, we, uh, get started on our ingredients, I guess…" Patrick said, thinking of the extensive ingredients they were assigned to get for the cure. They had half the list already, but the rest they'd have to travel for.

As Pete thought of becoming a human again, he felt the same feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got whenever he thought of the vampirism cure now that they were so close. It was a strange hunger, and one thing in particular that had contributed to this strange hunger was a different one that he had been feeling lately… the one thing Pete had wished he would never get… the one temptation… the one that came whenever he looked at Joe, Andrew, Patrick, or ANY human lately… the lust for their red-

"HAHA! I WIN!" Andrew broke Pete free from his thoughts. "And I TOTALLY beat the crap out of your record!"

"How much money is that?" Pete asked Patrick.

"Exactly six thousand dollars," Patrick said. "I think we're done. We have enough money to get by on the trip with ample food, medical supplies, weaponry… and maybe a few new pieces of clothing…" He pointed to Pete's white T-shirt, which was worn out, discolored, and fraying at the collar and sleeves.

"These guys are so drunk," Joe laughed. "We've each won three fights, and I might go in for one more! You'd think they'd realize we're the strongest fighters here tonight!"

"Let's go again! Let's go again!" Andrew chanted.

"No wait! Let's get a drink first!" Joe declared. "Looking at all these happy drunkards, I feel like I'm missing out on something."

And so they flocked the fifteen feet or so to the side to the bar. Patrick got the attention of one of the three bartenders. She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, and (contrasting) pale-skinned young woman about their age. And she was also very familiar.

"Uh, do I uh, know you?" Patrick asked.

"Depends." She finally looked up at him and smiled, revealing a row of vampire teeth. "What if I were to mention a whip and some knife-equipped brass knuckles?"

"Hana! I remember you now!"

"Huh, who- oh my…! Don't attack us! We'll fight you!" Joe struck a ready-to-fight pose, making the others laugh. He laughed, too, even though he was only half-joking.

Hana fiddled with glasses, pouring beer for another already-drunk man. "You can do that, but I don't do that anymore. It got to be too tiring, and the Punks disbanded anyway…" She trailed off, but it wasn't long before she spoke again. "Am I the only one who noticed the sudden decrease of people here? When I went to the edge of town, the population sign said five-thousand… but someone crossed out one zero…"

"Yyyeah…" Patrick said, sighing. "There was this guy who came in, Sorel, and he was-"

"I know who he was," She interrupted.

"Oooooo-kayyy…" Patrick looked to the side awkwardly. "So, we're going to leave town soon… what are you planning on doing with your afterlife?"

"My plan…" She smiled. "Is to continue bartending and stay here until EVERY SINGLE person has left. Then I'll loot the houses and shops for what their worth (if anything) and then… I don't know, go to college."

Joe picked up four beers that Hana had put out in front of them. He held one towards Patrick, waiting for him to take it.

"Sounds good," Patrick was anxious to break off the conversation that still had yet to find a good ice-breaker and probably never would. "So, yeah we're going to get going. We have enough money from tonight..." Patrick ignored Joe as he waved the bottle at Patrick, still waiting for him to take it. "And, uh, then maybe when we meet up again if we come back to town or nearby the town or something- Dude, STOP, I see it! Gimme me a minute! Uh… never mind. We have to go." Awkward pause. At least, before Joe's waving of the bottle got so fast that he almost hit Patrick in the face, laughing. "QUIT IT! So, bye. Good luck." Patrick turned and left. Joe and Andrew followed, but Pete stuck around for a few more seconds.

"Don't get dusted before I have the chance to do it," he smiled at Hana.

"You too, asshole." She quipped. When they were gone, she continued absentmindedly serving beer and ignored the latest fighter to get hurled ten feet into the air.

"Two beers, please," A man's voice said. Hana gave beer to the short-haired man with tattoos showing from under his black short sleeve shirt. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, despite his being _inside_ a _poorly lit_ bar.

He handed the other beer to his friend, a shorter, skinnier, smiling man with gelled hair.

"Forgetting something?!" Hana snarled, sticking her open palm out.

He lowered his sunglasses and glanced at her teeth. "Right… sorry." He slapped eight dollar bills into her hand and then swiftly with the other hand staked her in the chest.

"WHAT THE…?!" She screamed before disintegrating. She had time to look around frantically, but no one was (or could) help her or even hear her over the commotion of the bustling bar.

"Keep the change," The man said before she was gone.

His comrade laughed. "And she sure won't need it where she's going!"

The tattooed one turned to look at him. And he continued staring for about a minute.

"Uh… what's up?" His companion said nervously.

"Nothing." _Last time I go for 'Partners: Half-price'._

* * *

The vigilantes were just about to activate their Super Awesome Plan for Getting the RV. It was: go so fast that the guys in the junk yard don't know what to do. 

But the 'Junk Yard Heroes' were their friends… they weren't trying to swindle them. But it was crucial to the four vampire hunters that they got what they needed for their trip. And they get it a lot easier if Travis kept by his "everything is two dollars" rule.

So they were running down the sidewalk that was on the side of the chain-ink fence of the junkyard, ready to burst in. Pete led, with Joe and Andrew closely following, and Patrick covering the rear (he wasn't quite as fast as the others).

When they went through the open entrance, Travis was seeing if the hood of his sweatshirt could fit over his overly poofy hair. Disashi was asking Matt if wearing a do-rag made him look like a complete idiot. Eric was pounding a copier machine with a sledgehammer and throwing parts of it into the most recent scrap pile.

"Travis! How much is anything in the junkyard!" Pete yelled as he ran past Travis and over a small mound of metal.

"Hey, Pete," Travis huffed. "EVERYTHING is TWO DOLLARS. Don't you get it?"

Exactly ten seconds and the sound of a car door opening and shutting later, a fair-sized RV drove by Travis.

"Here you go!" Andrew was driving and he threw a five-dollar bill at Travis. "Keep the change!"

"HEY! YOU CAN'T HAVE THAT! WE WORKED HARD TO RESTORE THAT!" Travis yelled after them.

Pete opened up the back window of the large vehicle. "We left the Vigilante Mobile if you want to restore that!"

Travis, Matt, Disashi, and Eric all turned to look at a banged-up vehicle with a smashed front bumper and headlights, crumpled hood, and bad dents in the side.

"It needs engine work! The engine _spurted_!" Joe yelled out at the window, shoving his way out next to Pete.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" Disashi shouted after them.

"TO GET A CURE FOR VAMPIRISM!" Pete had to respond louder than before, as they were exiting the junkyard. "WE'LL BE BACK GOD KNOWS WHEN!"

* * *

"Now this is as simple as I think it is, correct?" Sorel crossed his arms over his worn black leather jacket. 

"For the most part," The young man in front of him responded. But he wasn't looking at Sorel. His strangely bright blue eyes were looking over four pieces of paper. "Now let's review this, and cover the details as well." When he said that, two out of his three companions stirred. One with dark hair combed over one eye got out a notepad and one with brown hair that stuck out in different directions whipped out a calculator.

The one Sorel was talking to cleared his throat and put down the papers to look at Sorel now. He thrusted his head back to flip a lock of his long black hair away from his face. "Four guys. About our age. Heights between them averaging out to be slightly below average height." When he talked, the one with the notebook scribbled with high speed. "Weights averaging out to be slightly underweight. Oh, good. Shouldn't be too hard to take them down."

"It won't, with you four, my lieutenants, and I." Sorel gestured behind him to where Gerard and Mikey, his loyal lieutenants, stood.

The man in front of him held up his finger. "Please, I'm not done. They are Caucasian, well-armed, good fighters OR good with weaponry and/or technology and one hates bats, correct?"

"Uh, correct," Sorel said. He wasn't used to being 'shushed' by a stranger, and would've acted in a violent manner, but figured he couldn't afford to lose this opportunity.

"Now, let's talk price…" He continued. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, Jared, I wanted to offer you 250 grand per head."

The man now known as Jared couldn't quite keep the eager smile of his face. His bounty-hunting group was famous, mainly for their good service but also a little bit for the fact that their prices were very fair: the prices were to be given by the customers. If they needed tweaking, Jared and his group had no problem doing so, but the general idea was that the customers set the price.

"Again, shouldn't be too-"

"_Provided _you do it right." Sorel snapped, interrupting Jared and once again taking the role of the pack leader in the room.

"Well, of course. What are your guidelines?"

Sorel leaned forward. "I want them ALIVE, you hear? ESPECIALLY the vampiric one. If you don't bring one or more of the others back alive, your pay will get docked by a large amount, but… you'll live." Sorel paused before talking again. "To put it simply, four of them, to me, captured but alive, full pay. Anyone but Pete killed, pay docked for each head killed. Pete killed, you don't get a single cent, even if the others are alive. If you fail altogether, meaning if any escape, you leave with nothing." Sorel leaned forward closer to Jared's face. "ABSOLUTELY nothing… get my drift?"

"Yes, of course, but we aren't done discussing things," Jared said nervously, looking away from Sorel now and to his friend with the calculator. He nodded at him and then looked back to Sorel. "I mean, there are some… extra costs."

"Extra?!" Sorel growled.

"Yes indeed. Extra." Another thing these bounty hunters were famous for (or rather, infamous for here) was tacking on extra costs to their pay, since they're customer-friendly as far as payment otherwise goes. And the word that went around was that the extras were often ridiculous and held no real point in the mission. "We'll need to be CLEAN, won't we? I'd sayyyy… two three-packs of lavender soap should do it…" The one with the calculator pressed buttons as Jared named items. "And energy! Two cans of instant coffee and four four-packs of Jack Russell energy drinks… purple flavor. Oh, and we need a little bottle of Windex for cleaning our swords."

Sorel sneered at the extra prices, but didn't demand that they were taken away. These bounty hunters were the surest way that Sorel knew of that would allow him to soon detain all four of the annoying vigilantes alive. Alive, of course, so he could torture them and watch them die a slow and painful death at his hand. Whether Pete, the vampire, was going to be staked after all this so he could watch was still up in the air. It all depended on if Sorel had the time, really… after all, who has time for quality torture these days?

Gerard rolled his eyes and whispered to Sorel, "I told you they were going to do this!"

"Shut up, you!" Sorel spat back. "Or I'll add your head to the list."

Gerard nodded with a hint of nervousness exposed. _But Sorel would never add Mikey's and my head to the list… we're his last lieutenants. We're almost his last members of the gang , anyway. So he wouldn't add us. Of course not. Right? Right. Duh. Of course. He has no reason… right._

"So, do we have a deal? We'll bill you with the extra prices at the end of the mission." Jared stuck out his hand towards Sorel.

"Yes, we do," Sorel shook his hand and smiled eagerly.

"Fine," Jared said.

"Fine," Sorel said.

"Dandy," Jared said.

Sorel had to restrain himself from grabbing Jared by the head. "DON'T EVER USE THAT WORD!"

* * *


	2. We Walk the Plank on a Sinking Ship

**Disclaimer: I own little used within. Pfft, I say! Pfft!**

**Here's the second chapter. Yet another new character is introduced, and get this: there are still more to come! However, I can justify this... I kill off some people to cut down on the cast list! Like... right now! And I actually feel a tad guilty about it, but hey, my cowriter was the one who wrote the first two scenes, so I can stop fretting and you can read.**

**I don't think the scene warrants an M rating, do you? Just making sure.**

**I also need to say a couple things regarding a couple of mistakes I made in plot elements. It has come to my attention that most fics of this canon I have read, here and elsewhere, state that in order to become a vampire, the who who is going to be turned must drink the blood of their sire _as well_ as having their sire feed on him or her. It also has come to my attention that Travis McCoy was in the video. I think as a vampire... not as an ally.**

**To explain these mistakes, here are my well-thought out excuses:**

**1. Oops.**

**And, 2. Oops.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: We Walk the Plank on a Sinking Ship**

"What the hell?" Andrew stopped the RV. Two figures were standing in the road in front of the vehicle, toting weapons. One was a huge guy dressed in torn military fatigues and waving around a massive sword like it was made of toilet paper. The other man was skinny and medium height, wearing loose black clothing and a grinning silver mask. He was twirling a blood-spattered shepherd's crook. Motorcycles were parked next to the road where they stood. "Looks like some leftovers from Sorel, guys."

"Hey bitches! Get out here!" the swordsman barked. "Sorel sent us and some friends to take on your junkyard buddies a while back, and they killed our pals! Then we find Sorel's turned tail and ran thanks to you punks, and left us stranded in this crappy ghost town! We've got no money and no gas, and the gas stations are all closed!"

"You want our gas?" Joe asked, confused.

"NO!" The swordvamp snarled. "We want to kill you guys for revenge! Then we'll take your gas at our leisure."

"If you idiots couldn't beat our friends with help, and we beat Sorel and his best, what makes you think you can take us on?" Patrick asked.

"Shut up and get out here!"

"They need some convincing…" The masked vampire calmly walked up to the RV and kicked in a headlight, destroying it.

"Hey! This is new!" Pete jumped out of the car. "Let me handle this, guys, I haven't had the chance to kill anybody who deserved it in a while!"

"You've got some nerve!" The military vampire swung his sword horizontally, and Pete fell onto his back to avoid the massive piece of steel. Pete then kicked out with both feet, hitting the swordsman's shins and knocking him down onto Pete. Finally, Pete got up, pushing the swordsman up and back, and grabbed his collar and drove his face into the pavement.

Pete was so busy fighting the pair of lost Barons that he didn't notice he was being watched. In the foliage not far off the road sat a black van. The pair of bounty hunters who had staked Hana earlier sat atop the van, wearing night vision goggles. "There he is," the small man with gelled hair whispered. "Pete is a real big haul. Quite a bounty."

"Well, Ryan, this guy's made quite a name for himself fighting with the other vampires in town. That guy Sorel's got a huge bounty, and this guy is supposed to have beaten him and sent him packing." The larger man shifted, getting into a lower position. "Study the way he fights. I don't want any surprises except the ones we have for him."

"Roger that, Shadows," Ryan said. "We'll take Pete down, and vampire hunting will suddenly be a much more comfortable profession."

"Right," the man known as Shadows agreed. _Except __**you'll **__still be doing it with me._

Pete blocked a downward crack with the cane, and kicked the man in the chest. He then backflip-kicked the man in the face, and knocked the mask off. Underneath, the vampire's face was covered in scars, and one eye was an empty socket. However, he was grinning like a Jack-o-lantern, and the mask absorbed the force of the kick. As Pete came down from the kick, he drove the flat end of the cane into Pete's Adams apple. Pete coughed and saw double, and the vampire laughed with glee as he used the crook to pull Pete down onto his back. "Now," the thin man said merrily, "Finish him!"

"Gladly." The swordsman brought his sword down, intending to drive Pete into the road, but Pete rolled back under his foe's legs. He came up behind the large vampire as he was pulling his sword up angrily, and grabbed the shoulder of his right arm. Pete concentrated and squeezed, causing dark flames to coat his hands. He kept squeezing until he felt bone, and the vampire yelled and dropped his sword. "You little pusbag!" The swordsman pulled himself away, clutching at his disabled arm.

"Ugh… I'll do it myself!" The scarred vampire jumped forward and stabbed his cane forward, but Pete caught the cane and burned through it, taking off the flat end. The vampire responded by sidestepping around Pete and hooking the cane on Pete's arm as he moved, pulling Pete back and off-balance. He got a stake out from his pocket, but Pete grabbed the stake with his free hand, and they struggled over it.

"I'll finish the maggot!" The swordsman grabbed the sword in his functioning arm and bore down on Pete and the other vampire. Both of Pete's arms were busy, so he kicked out with both legs and scissored them onto his opponent's meaty forearm as he brought the sword forward. There was a satisfying sound of bone snapping, and the sword went flying wildly off, missing Pete by a hair's breadth. Pete roared and swung the smaller vampire over his head and into the larger vampire, holding onto the stake.

"He's a good fighter…" Ryan mumbled with a grin. "A fun challenge… hey, what's that?" His grin was frozen on his face as the rogue sword cleanly beheaded him before embedding in a nearby tree branch.

Shadows looked unflinchingly at Ryan's headless body slumping off the hood of his van. "No great loss, but he got blood on the car. Screw it, no more partnerships for a while. At least I don't have to pay him." As he took off the night vision goggles, revealing sunglasses underneath, the tree limb the sword had encountered fell away. On the way down, it slammed the goggles out of his hand and crushed them, and the handle of the sword broke a front window as it fell. "Shit."

"EAT SHIT!" The huge vampire charged Pete, but his arms were now useless, and Pete easily staked him. Pete sighed and walked through the disintegrating vampire to get at the other one.

"Come now, we can talk about this, can't we?" The remaining Baron asked, still grinning his horrible grin. Pete angrily punched his foe in the jaw, knocking out most of his teeth and further ruining his grin. The vampiric vigilante followed up by driving the stake up into his opponent's chest as hard as he could. The cane-wielding Baron was knocked ten feet into the air and was dust before he hit the ground.

Pete turned back to the RV. "If you want to grab parts from the motorcycles, Patrick, feel free. Otherwise, let's scram."

* * *

"This is such crap," Matt muttered as he walked into the shack, where Disashi, Travis, and Eric were already hanging out. "It'll take at least a week for their 'Vigilante-Mobile' to work again!" 

"A whole week?" Eric asked, looking up from his book.

"Yeah, unless you guys help me."

"We were helping you," Disashi pointed out. "We just don't like to work after dark because it's harder to see and the day is vampire-free."

Somebody knocked on the door. "One minute… and stuff," Travis said as he walked to the peephole.

"Who is it?" Eric asked Travis.

"Some girl… dark hair… cute… dressed kinda weird, some kinda black and red short gown… angry…"

"Where's Pete?" The girl's voice called through the door.

"Vampiric…" Travis added. "We don't know any Pete. Go away." As he walked away from the door, it split in half horizontally, and each half was hurled outward and thrown away. The girl was standing about ten feet from the frame.

"I'll ask again," she said, barely contained rage present in her voice. "Where's Pete?"

"Do you have ANY idea how long it'll take to fix that door?" Travis asked. "That door was steel-plated! How'd you do that? Never mind, we don't know WHAT Pete ever did to you, but it's got nothing to do with us. Go away!" He drew a stake and pointed it at her.

She laughed derisively. "I invite you to try that."

"Fine!" Travis threw the stake at her, but she simply stepped to the side and it missed. He drew another stake and charged forward with a yell, but she ducked under his thrust and came up behind him. A dark, shifting substance covered her right hand, forming a long blade, and she slashed Travis across the back with it. "Ahh!" Travis dropped the stake and collapsed.

"Behold the power of shadow," she muttered.

"Travis!" Matt yelled. "Die, bitch!" He pulled a pistol out of his jacket and shot the woman three times. "There we go."

The woman stumbled back, then growled and stared at Matt. "You _ruined_ my dress."

"Oh, right, vampire. Well, crap," Matt said. "I'm sure I have a stake somewhere-" before he could finish his thought, another tendril of darkness extended from her other hand. This one curled as it lengthened, then lashed out, punching all the way through Matt's chest and out the other side. "Gurggh…" Matt gasped as he was lifted high into the air. He tried to shoot her again, but the bullet didn't even come close, and he dropped the pistol.

"He's still alive," the woman observed, her movements slow and calm. "Let's fix that. She waved her hand, and a wave of thorns rippled up the tendril, punching out of its sides and then melting back in. When the thorns reached Matt, he jerked, then went limp. "Better." She let the tendril fade away, causing Matt's body to drop to the roof of the shack.

"You crazy little fucker!" Disashi ran at the woman, a titanium baseball bat in one hand, a long, silver stake in the other, leading with the bat. At the same time, Eric looked at where Matt had landed, screamed and ran off.

"You'll all die," the girl laughed as Disashi swung his bat at her. She blocked with her forearm, and Disashi grinned as he heard bones snap. However, before he could stake her, she sliced upward with the shadow blade still emanating from her hand. Disashi frowned and blinked, then fell apart, split in half vertically. "Where's the little nerd?" She called angrily as she stepped over the gore and began to follow Eric. "Come out, come out," she sang.

"I'm r-right here!" Eric was at the side of the shack as she turned, leveling a rocket-propelled grenade at her face. "Luckily I kept this nearby!"

The vampiress frowned in confusion. "You think you'll even be able to touch me with that?"

Eric gulped and nodded. "GO TO HELL!" he cried out. The girl gestured, and just as Eric pulled the trigger, a tendril erupted from the ground in front of him. It wrapped around the weapon's tip, and pulled it down, causing Eric to fire at his own feet. He had no time to scream. The woman grinned coldly and turned around as burnt body parts dropped around her. "And then there was one."

She walked over to one of the work tables. Travis, panting heavily, blood dripping from his mouth, had hauled himself up, and was working on a cylindrical device roughly two feet in diameter. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work." The blade of shadow on her arm changed into a tendril tipped with a clawed, three-fingered hand, and she used it to spin him around by the shoulder and grab him by the neck. "Tell me where Pete is, and your death will be quick, like your friends'."

Travis's face, streaked with sweat, tears, and blood, gazed at her. "Pete's gone. He won't be back for a long time, and if you do find him, he'll kill you like he did The Baron."

The girl's face contorted with rage at the mention of The Baron, and she lifted him into the air by the neck. "You're lying! He's still here!"

"I'm really not," Travis muttered. "Of course, you'll have to live long enough to meet up with Pete." He gestured weakly to the device. "That's packed with thirty pounds of high explosives." Now that the woman was close, she could see it was covered in stakes (all pointing outward) and shards of silver. "There's no way anything close to here is going to survive that blast, and I don't think vampirism will help against _this _explosive." He grimaced. "What did Pete ever do to you that warrants you massacring people like this?"

The girl snarled and began constricting Travis's neck. "The same thing I just did to you. He killed those closest to me." She clenched her hands, and was rewarded by the satisfying sight of his head separating from his shoulders. She turned, and looked at the bomb, which had begun to beep rapidly. "Let's try this." She waved, and a bubble of shifting shadows encompassed the device. The table began to shake. _Better play it safe. _She formed a secondary shield of shadow between her and the table, just as the bomb went off.

It was every bit as powerful as Travis had advertised. Even with the double shield, the danger was undeniable. A pair of stakes went most of the way through the secondary shield, stopping inches from the woman's gut and heart. _Close one_. She let the shields drop, and large chunks of shrapnel clattered to the ground. The table it had been resting on was all over the place, and there was a circular burn where it had been. The first shield had been reduced to Swiss cheese… or whatever the solid-shadow equivalent of Swiss cheese was. She frowned, looking at her arm, and winced as she poked it. She had definitely broken her forearm, and she shouldn't stay there, she could be found out. She jumped over the fence easily, heading for the various shelters she could find in a mostly-abandoned town.

* * *

After stopping at their warehouse, the vigilantes were in the RV, inspecting it for vermin, molds, and stuff that might help them along the way, such as weapons, medical supplies, and beer. 

"Well, they have paper plates…" Andrew held out about five white paper plates out from the cupboard, where his head and other arm were still inside.

"Oh good… Disashi stocked up on a good First-Aid kit," Patrick was inspecting the kit, which was about the size of a large briefcase.

"A TV!" Joe shouted. "Hum hallelujah!"

"But does it work?" Andrew asked.

Joe tried to turn it on, but it resisted. He proceeded to whack it a few times and it finally obeyed him and turned on.

"What's in the fridge?" Pete asked before opening the refrigerator.

"What's in this cupboard?" Joe climbed onto a sofa that was across from a plastic-topped table and another couch just like it. The red, glittery seats and metal-rimmed table appeared to come from an old fifties'-style diner. Actually, the four in the RV _knew_ it came from a diner, because they remember when "Jay and Silent Bob's 50's Diner" was rampaged and shut down earlier that year.

Joe began pulling things out of the cupboard. "Old Playboy… napkins… a cell phone charger… pot… oh, pot!" Joe took out a little bag full of finely sliced, light green herbs.

"You don't need pot," Pete crossed his arms. In his opinion, pot would only cloud their brains if they were to come across a time when they would need their normally sharp reflexes.

"Whoa, and more pot…" Joe smiled deviously as he took out an identical bag. "And more! ... uh… and more…" Joe was getting less entertained and more weirded out. "Uh… and more… and more...and more… and more…" Soon, the table was covered in little bags.

"Whooooaaaa…" Andrew cocked his head to the side.

"Okay, we don't need this crap. We should return it to the guys before we get going." Pete picked up a bag and then threw it back down.

Patrick looked disgusted as he walked over to the closet behind the driver's seat. "Ugh, where did they go with this RV? Amsterdam? Uh, they must've, uh, AHHH! RACCOONS! RACCOONS!" Patrick reeled back from the closet as a small raccoon jumped on his head, then went down his blue T-shirt, traveled through his pants and came out the left pant leg. It ran back into the closet and Patrick slammed it shut. Andrew and Joe were laughing.

Pete made a face. "How many were in there?"

"TONS! They must've nested or something and had a litter!" Patrick was breathing hard from his little raccoon episode. "Okay… we're taking this thing back and telling them what's up with it."

"We give them back the weed and the raccoons…" Pete continued.

"But we can keep the magazine, right?" Joe asked.

"Oh yeah, definitely!" Pete answered.

* * *

Andrew beeped the horn as he turned the large vehicle into the junkyard. "Guys! TravisMattDisashiEric! We need to talk to youuu!" 

"Where are they?" Pete looked out the window. The shed's lights weren't turned on. "Did they leave or something?"

"I told you before, they never leave!" Andrew answered. He opened the door and sprinted off the steps.

"It's about 10:30 P.M…. they should be up and about, at least in their little house…" Patrick followed, then Joe, then Pete. Patrick walked towards the shed, Joe and Pete looked around the pile for something that could aid them in their trip.

Pete picked up a shiny, new-looking wrench he spotted, nestled among a few stakes that had wound up stuck point-down in a junkpile. Then he searched his tight blue jeans for money and came up empty. "Hey, Patrick, do you have two dollars?" He ran around the truck to find Patrick. When he did, Patrick was standing perfectly still. "Patrick, I need to borrow two bucks. Why are you standing like… what are you looking at? I'll pay you back tomorrow, I just- what are you pointing at?"

Patrick was pointing at Travis's severed head.

Pete jumped back. "OH JEEZ! Travis! What THE-"

Andrew and Joe had arrived also and stopped dead in their tracks.

Andrew swallowed. "Is that… Travis's head… there… and his body…" Andrew pointed to a headless body a few feet away. "…over there?"

"We… we should get out of here! Now!" Joe backed away.

"NO! The others!" Pete dashed to the shack's door, but tripped. "Huh what?" he looked down to see what he tripped over… a perfectly cut half of Disashi, with the other half right next to it. "AH, ah, ah-" Pete scooted away from it and towards the door, using the rusted handle to pull himself up. He pounded on the door. "Matt? Eric? Are you okay? Let me in, it's Pete!" As he pounded, something from the roof dripped onto the ground, just a couple drops.

Patrick ran towards the RV. "I'll get some weapons!"

"Don't go alone!" Joe nervously followed him.

Andrew whipped out his rapier and held it out in a defensive stance as he moved towards where Pete was.

Pete tried to unlock the door, shaking it. The more he shook, the more liquid from the roof came down. Pete jumped away from the door, getting ready to run and kick it in. When he did, something from the roof dripped on his shoulder. "Ugh... what the hell…?!" He rubbed his now wet shoulder and his hand came off with blood. Pete looked up at the roof and saw Matt's dead body up there. "Ohhh no… ohhh my God…"

Andrew saw it, too. "Where's Eric?!"

Joe came back with a crossbow and Patrick close behind with a net gun. Joe stopped short and picked up a burnt, severed human arm. Then he dropped it. "Um… I think… _that's_ Eric…"

Pete's eyes widened. "Let's get back to the RV. Now! We have to get out of here!"

The four all ran towards the vehicle in a panic.

* * *

No more panic. Now silence. 

It was silence, except for the car going (courtesy of Patrick in the driver's seat) and the occasional awkward sigh. No one dared ask a question about what they saw or where to go next.

And so they sat, wondering if they had permission to speak or cry, to do what they wanted to do. And did they have permission? Of course not! Of course you didn't get permission to cry, you're in front of the others, don't let them see you freak. Or they'll freak next. If you all freak, then you'll end up freaking in front of the enemy, and then you'll die. Thus, it was against the unspoken yet known vigilante code to freak, to show fear or cry. Freak and be killed.

Or that's what they thought what happen.

So, it's time to follow another vigilante code. What is that vigilante code? One of the most practiced: push your feelings back! Duh! The four vigilantes haven't sat down and 'talked' about anything since they were kids.

But wait! Hideous, awkward silence interrupted.

"Anyone want cupcakes?" Patrick asked shakily.

"I want cupcakes!" Andrew was, as usual, ready to jump at the idea of peace and something to interrupt tension.

And so, the RV pulled into 'Cakes of Cup'.

----------

"I've never seen so many cupcake types!" Andrew pretended to hide behind Joe in shock. "You even have blue raspberry! That's disgusting!"

"Watch it," The clerk warned. "I made those myself."

"How many are we getting?" Patrick asked Pete.

"Tons,"

"…Tons?"

"Tons," Pete looked at Patrick. "LOTS of chocolate. Tons."

"Relationship problems?" The clerk asked.

"…No." Pete glared at him.

"We get those." The clerk gestured to the other clerk. "But it's mostly him."

"I don't care," Pete snapped. These two were a far cry from the two teen girls who used to give him free cupcakes if he smiled back in town.

"Uh, we'll take a dozen of the chocolate iced ones." Patrick took out his wallet.

"More," Joe said to Patrick in a spooky, sci-fi-movie-robot-alien-possessed sort of way.

"Yeah, more," Andrew said in a similar way.

"More," Pete joined in.

"More, yes!" The clerks joined in.

"Fine, fine, jeez. Give me twelve of the, uh, variety pack."

"Variety pack?" The other clerk asked. "Boy, do I feel sorry for you."

Patrick grimaced at the price on the receipt. "Hey, guys… are we sure we need this many cupcakes?"

"YES!" Pete said to Patrick. "We need cupcakes."

"We need cupcakes?" Patrick repeated.

"Exactly. Cupcakes are what we need!"  
"Are you sure that's what it is?"

"…What?" Pete shook his head in disbelief.

"Cupcakes. Are they really-"

"YES!" Pete grabbed the bag that Patrick had just paid for. "For crying out FUCKING loud, Patrick."

As they walked out, Andrew and Joe stayed behind and stared at each other for a minute.

"Lace their cupcakes with antidepressants?" Andrew asked Joe.

"I was thinking exactly the same!" Joe exclaimed.

* * *


	3. Enter! Questionable Authority!

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. If I had a nickel for every time I've said that, I'd go to the mall and throw them at people.**

**I don't mean to be updating frequently, but I'd like to get some chapters in before I get too overwhelmed by work as a high-schooler for the first time. I wonder if since I'm a freshman, I smell like new car. **

**Guess who I'm trying to represent by the F.B.I. agents correctly and win confidence! Use their initials to help you out. Depending on who you know, who you like, and if you can read my mind, it may be easier or more difficult for you. And maybe some characteristics.**

**Also, one more thing: on another website where I have this story posted, someone questioned me about my usage of the name 'Andrew' as opposed to 'Andy'. Long story short (this AN's already too long), it was a mistake in the very beginning, and a habit I never broke. Sorry.**

* * *

"Oh my god, it's amazing how much cupcakes can do to your mood!" Joe stared at the little pastry that was helping him and the others drown their sorrows. Currently, the car was going on a road that slowly curved around a mountainside. Lush forest was not too far below, and they were the only vehicle on the road (for now). 

"And we haven't even gotten the pot out yet!" Andrew agreed, finishing off a white chocolate iced cupcake and driving at the same time.

"I am actually feeling better…" Pete lifted another chocolate one out of the bag.

"AAAH!" Andrew pointed at him. "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH PETE?" Pete ignored Andrew and handed the bag to Patrick

But Patrick shook his head. "Nah, I've had too many. There's way too much sugar in those."

Pete took the bag away. "You're _joking_, right?"

"Patrick, need I remind you of the internet quiz I took that said we weren't getting enough calories a day in proportion to our training, thus, we are skinny emo weaklings?" Joe said, waving part of a chocolate cupcake at Patrick.

"Don't bother him, Joe. He's too afraid of the calories. They are his enemy." Pete pretended to look dramatic as Joe and Andrew laughed and Patrick crossed his arms.

They were having so much fun that they didn't notice the large, black SUV with heavily tinted windows pulling right up right next to them as it drove along at about the same speed they were going.

"Come on, Patrick. Don't you want just ONE little calorific cupcake?" Joe waved the bag in front of him.

"You guys, this isn't even funny anymore… look, I'll eat the cupcake…" Patrick continued rolling his eyes.

"This one's going straight to my thighs!" Pete commented as he took another bite of cupcake, inducing laughs from Andrew and Joe.

"Nooo, Patrick's right!" Andrew smiled as he rolled down the window at his side without bothering to look to the side at all. "I would love to finish this cupcake, but it's SOOO filling from all the calories!" Andrew tossed his half-eaten cupcake out the window.

And he was rewarded with a loud '_SCREEEEEECH __**CRASH**_' type of noise.

Andrew immediately hit the brakes after hearing the noise. Patrick, Joe, and Pete jumped up.

Pete opened the door of the RV and looked out of it cautiously. Three other heads crowded around him to see what the source of the noise was. A black SUV with passenger windows that had such heavy tint you couldn't see into them at all had crashed into the side of the mountain that the wide road they were on stretched around. White icing, rainbow sprinkles and yellow cake had completely smeared across the windshield as well as the windshield wipers. From the deep scratches all over it, it appeared to have completely rolled and landed right-side up.

Immediately emerging from the driver's seat was a frazzled young man who looked to be about the age of the vigilantes. He had on thick, as-dark-as-can-be sunglasses (at midnight) and a black suit. His dark, seemingly uncombed hair was the only part of him that didn't look… organized. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" He asked from where he was standing, in front of one of the back passenger seats doors.

"Do what?" Pete spoke for them and decided to play dumb (if only for just a little while).

"WHY DID YOU THROW A CUPCAKE AT OUR WINDSHIELD?"

"Why'd you turn the windshield wipers on?" Pete tried to look puzzled as he the other three tried to hold in their laughter. "You just made it worse!"

The suited guy flinched, looking frantic. "I… you can not talk to me this way! I am an FBI member… AGENT! I meant agent!" He reached into his pocket and held out a badge upside down. But then he realized that and quickly turned it right side up and held a rigid posture.

Patrick looked him over. "Uh… are you… new at this or something?"

The agent's posture softened. "Does it show?" He squeaked.

But before he could speak again, the car door he was standing in front of opened with a jolt, knocking the first agent out of the way. Another one stepped out. He had the same suit and sunglasses, but his hair was gelled upwards and he had a small layer of stubble.

He pointed to the younger agent. "You made me spill part of my beer, maggot!"

"Sorry…" The first one picked himself up off the ground and dusted his suit off.

"What happened here?" Another agent came out. This time it was a girl. She had light blonde hair and was visibly smaller than the guys who had already stepped out. She had the same suit and sunglasses, but her suit was slightly more fitted. She turned to the first one. "Did you crash? AGAIN?"

"Yeah, but this time it wasn't my fault! It was THEIRS! They threw a cupcake at me!" He pointed to the RV, but Patrick, Pete, Joe, and Andrew had ducked behind the door and were going to listen to hear what would happen next.

"A cupcake?" The second one asked. "If you're going to be a part of the VFBI, you have more things to be afraid of than a cupcake!"

"_V_FBI?" Patrick whispered. The others shrugged.

"Who… the hell… throws CUPCAKES OUT THEIR WINDOW?!" One more agent, a large black man with a shaved head, stepped out of the vehicle, carrying the steering wheel which had formerly been attached to the rest of the car. He turned to the new agent. "T.R., identify these fools!"

"Uh…" T.R. thought for a moment. "I never got their names. They're just some fools, Agent S.J., sir."

"Uh, I'm Andrew, and this is Pete, Patrick, and Joe. We're vampire-hunting vigilantes... and we're on a road trip to find a cure for vampirism."

Pete slapped Andrew in the back of the head. "What are you doing? You can't just go telling everything to people just because they ask, even if they are in some weird part of the F.B.I.!"

"That really hurt, Pete!"

"It's your fault anyway for hitting them with a cupcake!"

Meanwhile, the VFBI members were all laughing. "Vigilantes, you say… and you're looking for a cure for vampirism." S.J. turned to the others. "Isn't that nice." He turned back to the vigilantes. "I really should beat you guys within an inch of your lives… and then arrest you and a file a lawsuit." He threw the steering wheel like a Frisbee. Patrick ducked, and the wheel embedded itself deep in the body of the RV.

"_That_ is bad…" Patrick said.

"Now would be a good time to go get weapons," Pete murmured to Patrick.

"I heard that!" The girl shouted. She suddenly sprinted forward, charging them. "Agent J.K., follow my lead!"

"Don't I always…" The one with the beer put his beer on the ground and also charged forward.

"Happy birthday!" Patrick threw a smoke grenade their way. But the girl dodged it. Agent S.J. caught it, glanced at it, then tossed it down over the railing at the edge of the cliffside road.

Joe met the girl by trying to high-kick her, but she reeled around him and gave him a similar kick to his side, knocking him forward. "Ouch! What's with you? A secret agent girl who kick boxes or something?"

She stuck out her hand. "You're… Joe, right? We haven't met. I'm Agent A.L."

Joe looked at her hand, then cautiously put his out. She grabbed it, smiled, shook his hand, then pulled him forward and punched him in the face. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

Pete tried to left hook Agent J.K. He hit him square in the jaw, but the agent steadied himself and punched Pete right back.

Pete shook his head. "You don't bother to block or move when I hit you. What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked as he inched backwards, trying to create a little distance.

"If you just hit me hard, you won't be expecting me to get right back up and hit you back, right?" He shrugged like it was obvious.

"That's crazy!" Pete shouted.

"We ARE vampires. I've never been happier hurting myself since I became a vampire… then part of the Vampiric Federal Bureau of Investigations. Pay is good… when pay is good… beer is cheap."

"So BEFORE you were a vampire, you used to go around-" Pete was cut off when Agent T.R. shot him in the lower side of his torso. "AAAGH! What the hell! I'm in the middle of talking!" Pete kneeled down for a moment.

"And it's rude to interrupt!" Patrick punched T.R. in the face then took out his crossbow and pointed it at his opponent. "This is useful even against non-vampires! And… cool! I'm not fighting the girl for once!"

"BE HAPPY YOU'RE NOT!" Joe was constantly ducking to avoid hits and had little time to get in his own.

Andrew turned to Agent S.J. "Cool… I get to fight you…"

"That would be a very bad idea on your part…" He answered.

"I'm willing to take my chances!" Andrew swung low with one rapier, then took out his other and managed to get in a slice on his opponent's arm.

Andrew smiled at this, until he was kicked away and back two feet. "Wow, you guys are no joke. Oh well, at least you're not vampires…"

"How can you be so sure?" S.J. smiled, and his vampire teeth were revealed.

From where Joe was, Agent A.L. shouted, "You almost knocked out one of my fangs, you ass!"

Pete punched his opponent again, who bounced back and grabbed Pete's shirt, pushing him forward and pinning him against the railing on the road. He smiled, revealing his vampire teeth as well. "I'm Agent J.K., and this is the High Dive!" He pushed forward, sending both him and Pete off the cliff.

"WHAT THE FU-" Pete shouted before they hurtled downwards. They both went down about twenty feet, hitting rocks, ledges, and the like. But then Pete was fortunate enough to land on a particularly large ledge, but one of his arms was still hanging off. "Uhhh… daaaaamn…" Pete moaned to himself as he begun to pick himself up, dripping blood from a wound on the side of his head.

"Wow, this sucks…" Agent J.K. was hanging on a lone branch; it had caught his pants and he was basically hanging by his waistband (how cliché).

"It's your fault!" Pete snapped. "Why'd you jump off a cliff and take me with you?!"

"It's a signature move!" He wiggled a bit on the branch. "My plan was for us to go all the way down. I thought I would have a better pain threshold than you, therefore, being able to walk away even if I was all broken and leave you limp n' whimpering at the bottom."

Pete was silent.

"It's an awesome move," Agent J.K. insisted before a loud snap sound was heard and the branch he was dangling on broke. "YOU HAVEN'T HEARD THE LAST OF MEEEEeeee…" He hollered as he hurtled down (again, very cliché).

"Aw, crap, now I'll have to climb back up…" Pete struggled to a sitting position, then to his feet, and felt around for injuries. After painfully popping his shoulder back into its socket, he began to climb back up the cliff.

"Take this, and that!" Agent T.R. threw a sloppy punch at Patrick, and another. Patrick dodged both and bashed T.R. across the face with his crossbow. "Not bad," he remarked. "But you cannot defeat the VFBI!" He swung a roundhouse kick at Patrick, but misjudged the distance, and threw himself off-balance.

"How many times have you really gotten in a fight before?" Patrick asked.

"A few! Take this!" T.R. jumped high into the air, and stomped down at Patrick. Patrick jumped away, and the novice vampire drove his right foot into the cement. "Dammit! Gimme a minute!" T.R. began pulling at his foot, and Patrick just looked at him quizzically.

"Yah!" Andrew stabbed forward with both his rapiers. Agent S.J. dodged back, but the tips still sunk into his gut just a bit. He grabbed the rapiers by the blades and lifted Andrew off the ground, then threw him onto the top of the RV. "Ow…" Andrew muttered as S.J. jumped up after him.

"If you four surrender now, we'll let you live," S.J. sneered. Andrew stabbed forward with the rapier Patrick made for him, but the muscular vampire-agent caught the blade again.

"I'll take my chances," Andrew answered, and pressed a button on the rapier. The blade lit up red-hot, and S.J. yelled and let go, clutching his smoking hand. Andrew feinted forward with his other rapier, then kicked S.J. in the gut, knocking him off the RV.

"Andy!" Pete shouted from the RV door. "Let's get the others and make a quick escape!"

"Awww, I hate to run!" Andrew whined.

"It's your fault we're in this situation in the first place!" Pete growled. "You get Joe and I'll get Patrick."

"'Kay," Andrew jumped off the RV with ease. "Hey Joe!"

"I'm a little busy right now!" Joe responded.

"Look! A ham demon!" Agent A.L. shouted, pointing behind Joe. But she didn't bother to wait for him to turn around (if he was going to at all) and just punched him hard in the face.

"AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL I TURN AROUND?!" Joe stumbled back onto the ground and yelled at her.

"Hey, girl!" Andrew stepped in front of Joe. "Look, your comrade trying to climb up the road when he probably broke his leg or something!"

Her response was to punch Andy in the face before turning around to see Agent J.K. crawling up the road.

"Can I get some help here? Maybe some beer?" He said weakly as his fellow agent ran towards him to help him up.

Andrew rubbed his face. "Damn, I hate that girl! Come on, Joe, Pete wants us to make a run for it!"

Patrick shook his head. "Dude, you're losing against me. Against ME. That's saying something!" He smiled and pointed his electric net gun at Agent T.R., who had successfully buried his fist into the ground shortly after pulling his foot loose.

"I don't know how my fist got in there."

Patrick carefully took aim, but someone interrupted him before he could shoot. "Mind if I cut in?" Agent S.J. turned Patrick around and kneed him hard in the stomach.

Patrick dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach. "Oooohhdamn…" He murmured.

"Hey! Large guy!" Pete ran toward Agent S.J.

"You called me? OOMMPH!" Pete tackled his shoulder directly into S.J.'s chest. "Nice try," the agent laughed, "but you'll have to tackle harder than that to knock me down!"

"Maybe you'll prefer this then!" Pete grunted and lifted S.J. over his head with both hands and threw him at T.R., popping him lose and knocking them both down. "Let's go! We're burning starlight, and all our stakes are in the RV anyway!" He and Patrick followed Joe and Andrew into the RV, and drove off as fast as they could.

A.L. pulled J.K. up over the ledge. "They're going straight to the top of our own personal most wanted list," A.L. growled.

"I couldn't agree more," S.J. replied. "Let's go check the damage on the van."

"Thanks to you, we'll have to find a new steering wheel," J.K. snickered. They didn't notice a stray bullet that had pierced one of their tires, flattening it.

A damaged, black car drove up. A man with sunglasses (not as dark as the VFBIs') and a short haircut observed them. "Hey, you guys need a lift?"

"No, no, we'll be fine," Agent J.K. answered.

The observer raised one eyebrow, unsure of the fact that they were 'fine'. But no matter. He continued his driving. Or he would've, if his car didn't suddenly stop after fifteen more feet.

"Huh?! Oh, out of gas! Good thing I keep a spare container in the back!" He said to himself just before it looked like this well-built man was stricken with bad luck. He got out of the car. "Oh! A twenty!"

Just as the man bent down to pick up his free money, Agent T.R. yelled out, "WATCH OUT! RUNAWAY VAN!"

"Huh?" The man with the money looked up just in time to see the van come hurtling down the road and bash into his car, sending into the railing (breaking right through it) and down into the forest. "OH NO! Oh well, at least it's just forest down there and not-" A loud splash interrupted him. "…a river."

"Sorry about that." Agent T.R. climbed into the driver's seats as the other three agents climbed into the back and they drove off, leaving the unlucky man at the road.

He looked up at the heavens. "WHY?! AGAIN!"

He was a cursed, unlucky man. But only in a way. Because the next person to drive up a mere minute later was a bubbly blonde who was having problems steering and braking (she was only in her teens). Her two friends were in the back of their beat-up, paint-chipped Ford (stolen? Who knows) She smiled at him, but her vampire teeth were not visible under his sunglasses and in the nighttime. "Need a lift? Hitchhikers are coooollll."

* * *


	4. I Love This Bar

**Disclaimer: I own little used within.**

**Remember my supermarket chapter in the last fic? Semi-filler? This is sort of like that. It could sort of pass off as a filler chapter, but you may miss something if you skip it completely. This one is a drunken scene in a bar.**

**By the way, I'm not all that familiar with how drunken people act. I'm just basing these on stereotypes. So sorry if it didn't come out right.**

* * *

The Geht Reel Drunc. Not exactly a haven for the vigilantes. But cupcakes didn't help. A good fight with some strangers didn't help. Even stopping along the way to the bar and taking out all their anger-grief (they thought it was anger. But it was actually grief! What a twist!) on some poor, innocent trees for a couple hours (then not being able to move for at least another fifteen minutes or so due to loss of energy) didn't help. So what was their only option left? 

…Talk it out? Don't be an idiot. Drink it away, of course!

"Uh… this one's the first one for twenty more miles…" Patrick restudied his map.

"It'll do," Pete looked it over.

----------

One half-hour and twenty beers later, Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andrew were drunk. Hammered, inebriated, smashed, and plastered. Maybe even tipsy.

"Uuuuuuugh, this beer rocks!" Andrew smiled. "This is better n' anythin' back at home!"

"It sucks!" Pete threw an empty bottle at the door and it smashed.

"This bar is so derepsing…" Patrick was slouched over his beer.

"I think you mean derivin'!" Joe commented to Patrick and nudged him a bit. "GOD, you are shooo drunk!" He held out his hands. "Gimme the… gimme the keys. I'm drivin'!"

"NOW AREN'T WE HAVING FUN?!" Sorel shouted. If only he wasn't so drunk he would realize his targets sitting right under his noses. He swung his beer and almost hit his also inebriated lieutenants.

"Whoa, now sir!" Gerard held his palms straight out and up in front of him, trying to signal to Sorel to be steady, when he himself was weaving. "Don't want you to get toooo tipsy, now huh?!"

Mikey waved his hands about. "I LOOOOVE THIS BAR! Da da da da daaa…" He sang some sort of off-key version of the song.

Jared sat way off to the side, in a reclusive corner with his three friends. "Drink now, me hearties! We strike at dawn! And tonight, WE DINE IN HELL!"

One of his members pointed to Jared and giggled. "'300'… L.O.L., man!"

Joe stumbled over to them and looked at Jared. "You're a pretty girl. Are you from Tennessee?"

Jared furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, then shook his head.

"'Cause you're the only ten I see!"

"Ewwwwwwwwww, drunkard!" Jared (ironically quite drunk himself) pushed Joe off.

"YOU…" Meanwhile, Sorel turned around to face Pete. "Do I… know you from somewhere?"

Pete flipped his hair out of his face. "You're ugly. And drunk. Git outta my fashe!"

Sorel's response was to laugh and put a hand on Pete's bony shoulder (making Pete scowl, growl, and try to flinch away). "You're funny. You're great. That is good. YA KNOW, I could use YOU for one of my next lieutenants!"

"But we're your lieutenants!" Gerard shouted, louder than he needed to. Mikey was nowhere to be found.

"Right, right… you are…" Sorel stumbled away from Pete and to Gerard, putting a hand on his shoulder instead. "You, you're great. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Not enough, sir! NOT ENOUGH!" Gerard shouted, again, louder than he needed to be, considering that Sorel was standing right next to him.

Andrew was watching them the entire time in silence. But somewhere, out of nowhere, he cracked up finding something (maybe Gerard's loss of volume control?) very funny.

Joe simply stared at Andrew. He looked like he was about to cry. "What's so funny… I wanna get it, too…" His face darkened suddenly and he shouted at the top of his lungs and lunged forward to grab Andrew's T-shirt and shake him. "TELL ME WHAT'S SO FUNNY!" But this just made Andrew giggle harder.

Patrick observed them. "They're havin' more fun 'an me… everyone has more fun… Patrick _sad_!" Patrick then began to slouch so much that he almost fell out of his chair if Sorel didn't reach down and pull him back up.

"Heyheyheyhey, where're ya goin'?!" Sorel said to him. "You're great, just great… you don't need to go an' fall an' stuff!" Sorel handed Patrick his beer before going elsewhere.

Joe looked at Sorel. "Hey, did your father have sex with a carrot? 'Cause you've got nice eyes!"

"You're great!" Sorel tapped Joe on the shoulder a few times with his empty beer bottle and then turned to the bartender to order another beer (the poor young Indian boy, probably too young to be tending a bar legally, was so confused by the scene that he looked a little tipsy himself). "GIMME ANOTHER BEER, PUNK!"

"Agh!" the bartending boy just quickly put another beer on the counter and recoiled in fear, probably just because Sorel was a vampire.

"Thanks…" Sorel picked it up. "You are a GREAT bartender."

A dark-haired girl walked into the bar. She was casually wiping Travis's blood off her black-and-red dress and ordered a glass of red wine.

"Heyyy," Joe walked over to her in anything but a straight line. "Are you from heaven?... 'Cause I got an erection!"

The girl didn't look at him, not even a glance. She knew better after a couple of hundred years to not make eye contact with the drunkards. She instead turned to Gerard. "Excuse me, sir? Have you seen these men?" She held up a group picture of Joe, Pete, Patrick, and Andrew.

Gerard studied it for a minute, straining. "Nnnnnnnnnnope. Not even familiar. Oh, wait, maybe… naw, I take it back. Don't know him." He took a look at Joe over the woman's shoulder. "Who are they?"

She shrugged and paid the bartender. The mysterious girl knew better than to hang around drunkards who had no idea which ways were up and left.

Sorel stood up on the counter. "Hey, hey everybody! You're a great audience! I have, I have something to show you!" He took out his sword and held it above his sword. "You, y-y, you're gonna miss it! You're gonna miss it!" He hurled his sword behind him, accidentally getting the poor bartending boy in the chest and pinning him against the wall. "Awwwwww, you- you blinked. You missed it."

Andrew giggled. Joe joined him in giggling. Pete didn't giggle. Neither did Patrick.

The next second, in walked the four VFBI members. "Well, would you look at that…" Agent S.J. observed. "No bartender… except for that corpse up against the Budweiser. What are we going to do about this situation?"

Agent J.K. was elated. "Free happy hour!"

"No!" Agent A.L. grabbed him before he went running. "We have to do the bartending ourselves. As authority figures." She led the way to behind the counter. Three of the agents started to get beers out for the others, but Agent J.K. just flopped down on the counter and used the fountain beer nozzle to squirt beer directly into his mouth.

Sorel pointed at Agent J.K. "Ohhhmygod! _You_ can _party_, boy! You are SO GREAT!" He then turned to Agent S.J. "And you… you're so BIG… and SCAry… that's so greeeeaaaaat…"

Patrick groaned in sadness to himself and poured his beer in front of him, watching it as it spilled all over the counter.

"You should… you should… if you aren't gonna drink that beer," Gerard struggled out, "You should save it for the jun… jun… the rainforest."

"I-I-I HATE to break up parties, 'shpecially GREEEAAAT ones like this…" Sorel started. "But, I think it'sh time my great ol' lieutenants an' hired help left… we gotta go torture people."

"Nooo, don't go!" Joe whined. "Hey, ya know what would be great?!"

"WHAT WOULD BE GREAT?!" Sorel grabbed Joe by the shoulders and shook him a bit.

Joe grabbed Sorel's shoulders back. "We should aaaaallllllllll stay together tonight, and have breakfesht here, raht here in thish bar, tomorrow mornin', 'cause some of us may be a bitty… hanged over, you know?" Joe tossed his sixth beer aside on the counter. "I gotta 'mit, I had a couple myshelf."

Sorel stumbled away. "THAT… is SUCH a GREAT idea!" He stumbled over to Pete and put his arm around Pete's shoulders, almost knocking them both down (considering neither of them were steady). "'Cause I am just not ready to leave you all, you're such my new great friends!" Pete looked ready to attack Sorel.

"We should totally do that!" Andrew smiled.

"Nooo," Patrick said. "I bet we won't like each other in the morning… we never do…" he paused and crossed his arms. His face was flushed. "Or maybe we'll die in our sleep."

"Awww! C'mon Patrick, I wanna shtayyy!" Andrew tugged on Patrick's sleeve. "Hey, Patrick?... Hey, Patrick? Pat? Patrick? Yo, Patrick? Patrick? Pat? Rickshter? Patrick?"

"Uhhhhhhhhn, what?" Patrick curled up into the fetal position.

"I wanna shtayyy overnight!" Andrew whined. "Pleeeeeaaasshhe?"

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Pete wiggled Andrew. "JEEEEEEEZ, Andy… we gotta go!"

"Mm'kay…" Andrew began towards the entrance of the bar as Patrick slowly got up. "We'll just sleep in tha RV…"

"I'll sleep on the roof!" Pete's scowl ran away for a second.

Patrick looked over at Pete. "Aren't ya gonna… in the morning… get sunburned?"

"Or what if you roll off?!" Joe looked worried.

"Raht… sun burns!" Pete scowled as he trudged out of Geht Reel Drunc as the other vigilantes followed.

"C'mon Patrick, gimme the keysh!" Joe nudged Patrick. "You are in NO SHAPE to drive!"

Just as they left, Sorel's group started to leave.

"You're drunk!" Jared laughed and pointed to the bounty hunter standing next to him.

"No, you're drunk!" The other said.

"You're ALL drunk!" One with a droopy black hairdo said.

"No, no, no!" One of them said. "Jared, I can rightfully say since you are my brother and I know you… you are drunk!"

Jared shook his head. "Wanna know something funny? Your name is Shannon. That's a GIRL'S name! And you're supposed to be my brother!" He made a straight face out of nowhere. "I… will prove this to you! You are so drunk… that if I stab you… beer will come out!" Jared made a spastic movement and whipped out his katana, stabbing his brother in the arm. Blood seeped out. "Ohhh. Not beer. Maybe I am drunk."

His brother managed a wheezing laugh. "It doesn't… it doesn't hurt at all! Look! Look at this! I'm bleeding a lot, and I think ya might've sliced into the bone, omigod, how funny is that?"

The bounty hunters, Sorel, Gerard, and a half-conscious Mikey (being dragged out, courtesy of Gerard) left the bar as well.

Agent J.K. watched them leave. He looked up at his other agents. "So, free happy hour now?"

A pause. Then, "Yes. Free happy hour now." Agent S.J. nodded as A.L. and J.K. cheered and filled their glasses.

* * *


	5. Clear Your Throat and Face The World

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. I AM HYPERSTRIIIKE!**

**Okay... someone very rightfully pointed out to me a mistake I made last chapter... **

**Andy is straightedge. I realize this. I even read about it a 'Rolling Stone' article, and thought to myself, "Wow, that IS really straight!" I apologize for the mistake.**

**First I mess up his name, then I make him eat something meaty in the first fic, now this. If I were to screw up Andy anymore he'd be a keyboardist named Jimmy.**

**By the way, terrible ending, I know. Don't worry. Just stay tuned for next chapter. I'm anxious to get the sixth one in, so I'll probably be updating later this week.**

* * *

Claire put the brakes on the car, jerking it forward. "Okay, mister. You sure this stop is fine? 'Cause you look alone and stuff." She ignored her two giggling friends in the backseat (giggling at the fact that there was a guy in the car). 

"I'll be fine. Thanks for the ride." He stepped out, holding a large gun with a large stake on the end.

Claire flashed him a wide, toothy smile, revealing her vampiric fangs. "Okey dokey! Byebye!" She drove off.

"HEY WAIT!" He was shocked at realizing she was a vampire.

* * *

Pete rolled about, unwilling to get up. His bed was the seat at the dining table (formerly from the diner). Even though there were **four** previous owners, there were curiously only **three** bunks. And upon fiddling with the blinds at the window near the table, Pete realized that his sofa-bed was actually better if he wanted to keep away from the sun. And they had gotten drunk last night and lost track of time, thus Pete would be waking up to sunlight in just a couple of hours. 

And so Pete rolled just a bit more until it finally set in: you can only roll on a couch so much until you _roll off_.

_CLUNK._

"Uh!" Pete jumped up. Resulting in his head against the bottom of the table. _CLUNK._ "UHHH!"

Pete stuck his head out from under the table, rubbing it. The curtains on the other two windows in the RV were closed, but moonlight bled thru. Andrew was still sleeping. Somebody was puking in the undersized bathroom, and the last was nowhere to be seen.

"Coffee?" Joe asked Pete from behind.

That resulted in surprising Pete, which resulted in Pete bonking his head again, which resulted in Pete groaning again. "_UUUGGHH!_"

"No, then?" Joe chugged a mug of coffee in a few gulps. He held out a beer to Pete. "Hair of the dog that bit you? Like half my coffee was beer just now."

"I'll just take a shower or something…" Pete got up.

"Good luck with that. There is no shower on this bus."

"Then I'll just-" Pete paused. "How long has it been since any of us showered?"

"_That_, my friend, is a question best not thought about it."

Patrick stumbled out of the 'bath'room. "Ugh… why did you guys let me drink so much?"

"We were too busy making sure we drank so much," Joe replied.

Patrick turned to look at Andrew. "Andy, wake up! If we're up and miserable and hung over you should be, too! ANDREW!" Patrick went over to start pushing and hitting poor Andrew until he woke.

"So Patrick's a sad drunk and a pissed off hung over?" Joe raised one eyebrow while watching Patrick torment Andrew.

"What's your problem?!" Andrew shot up from under his white comforter.

"We have to get going," Patrick said. "Get driving. Back on track. I'm nauseous as hell, Joe just downed another couple of beers with his coffee, and Pete's got head trauma. You appear to be the least hung over, so you're driving."

Andrew incoherently whined as he walked over to the steering wheel. "Where am I going? What do we need on the ingredients list?"

"Let me look at it again…" Patrick looked over the list of ingredients of the cure for vampirism that the Dark Priest had given them to retrieve. Theirs was the second half of the list.

**11. Sage (1 dram)**

**12. Rosemary (1 dram)**

**13. Blood of a virgin (at least 50 milliliters to take proper effect)**

**14. Redwood leaves (5 grains, powdered)**

**15. 6 cloves of garlic**

**16. Vampiric blood collected from at least 5 different vampires. At least 50 milliliters each.**

**17. 1 cup coconut milk (yes, seriously. About 40 milliliters)**

**18. One half of a cup red wine (aged at least 50 years) **

**19. One Yule log (to boil potion)**

**20. Holy water (40 milliliters)**

"Well, we have the sage, rosemary, garlic, red wine, and Yule log. We'll pick the blood from five vampires up as we go; we've already got Pete's for one. Same for the virgin blood. Not sure how we're going to do that…" Patrick trailed off.

"Patrick, why don't you give yours?" Joe asked.

"Not funny," Patrick didn't look up. "I suppose since we're nowhere near where Redwood trees are, we'll just have to stop at the nearest supermarket and get the coconut milk. Besides the spices and wine we got, they didn't have anything besides perishable staples and water when we left our town."

"So, closest possible town out of this forested area?" Andrew asked Patrick.

"Yup," Patrick responded.

Pete looked at the windshield from where he was sitting at the back of the bus on one of the others' bunks. He was just realizing their surroundings (namely, forest) because he didn't even look out the window yet. "Where's the nearest town?"

"About 250 miles away." Patrick had a map out. "I can't believe there's so much wilderness out here. Did we go into the center of Yellowstone or something? Maybe this road isn't ALL forest the whole way or something."

"What time is it?"

"'Bout five A.M." Joe leaned his forward to look at a digital alarm clock on a small, built-in shelf

Pete pieced it together in his mind. "So it'll be daylight when we reach the closest well-populated town?"

"Yup," Patrick walked over to Andrew and started to show him the route they were going before they would get started to leave.

"Well, wait!" Pete jumped up from his prone position. "How can we go to a supermarket if it's light out?!"

Patrick gave him a quizzical look, shrugging. "You'll stay, we'll leave."

Pete dwelled on the thought for a minute before giving Patrick his best 'does-not-compute' face. "Wait… whaaat?!"

Patrick turned away from Andrew, rolling his eyes after finally understanding where Pete's confusion came from. "You're a big boy, Pete. As are we. You can take care of yourself, we can take care of ourselves."

Joe helpfully added, "You wear pants, not diapers."

Pete huffed, then leaned back into the bed again, wondering what he could possibly to do to occupy his time later for a few hours by himself.

His thinking was interrupted by a force lifting up their RV.

"WHAT THE FUCK…?!" Patrick shouted.

"Hello. This is new." Joe said, perfectly calm.

It was dropped back down with a clunk. Patrick looked around. "Did we just… levitate a foot into the air?!" He shouted.

"I heard that!" A man's (very familiar) voice came from outside. "No, you didn't do that, you punk! I DID!"

Patrick glanced out the window to see a very ticked off-looking Sorel, with his arms crossed. "THIS… is bad."

"We've been discovered, eh?" Andrew looked at Sorel. Gerard and Mikey were standing near him, leaning on their motorcycles, looking just as hung over as the vigilantes. Sorel was either immune to hangovers or abandoned his feelings of sickish-ness for the sake of being angry.

"Come on out and face me!" Sorel shouted. "And don't bother trying to run me over, I'll only get ANGRIER!" In response to that, Andrew took his hand nervously off the keys in the ignition.

Pete got up. "Joe, do me a favor."

"Yes?" Joe sipped another cup of coffee-beer.

"Slap me in the face. Hard."

Joe giggled and gave Pete a hard slap. "That was fun. Can I do it again?"

"No, I'll be fine and alert now." Pete went over to the door.

"Wait! W-what are you doing?! We don't have a plan or… or anything!" Patrick stammered.

"I do have a plan."

"What?! What's the plan?!"

"Kick ass." Pete opened the door and jumped out.

"I'm game!" Joe followed him. Andrew shrugged and did the same as Patrick scurried around, preparing weapons.

"Ew, trash!" Andrew almost stepped on a pile of what appeared to be discarded parts of a machine; cables and scrap metal.

Sorel glanced at the discarded parts, smiling. "Oh… idea!" he telekinetically lifted up a cable and quickly began wrapping it around Andrew, still using his powers.

"AHH! STOP IT!" Andrew clawed the cable as it shot out and grabbed Joe, pulling him towards Andrew. Then it was only a matter of seconds before it tied them up together, back-to-back.

Sorel picked them up and tossed them over to Gerard and Mikey. "Have fun!"

Gerard blinked and looked down. "Aw man… now we have to do something…"

Sorel turned his attention back to Pete and Patrick. "I don't believe we ever finished our lessons in etiquette, did we?"

Pete looked confused. "What?"

"I don't think I even want to know!" Patrick commented.

Sorel rolled his eyes. "That's right, you don't. Now scoot, Patrick." Sorel lifted Patrick up (again, with his powers) and tossed him over the other side of the RV. "There, that should keep him occupied."

"HEY!" Pete tried to punch Sorel, but Sorel caught his hand.

"Etiquette lesson one!" Sorel smiled. "Limp handshakes signify limp personalities." Sorel smiled wider and flipped Pete over his shoulder judo-style with just his wrist. He then threw Pete back over his shoulder and onto the ground in front of him, the excessive flipping and pressure forcing a loud snap sound from Pete's wrist.

Sorel threw Pete against the RV and held him there with his powers. He stepped closer, only to smile innocently and hold out his arms. "Do you want to stake me?"

Pete stared back at him. "Uh… do you want one more for the road?"

"I'm serious," Sorel said. "Stake me... if you want to try."

"Yeah, that basically just convinced me not to." Pete snarled. Instead, he raised his foot and kicked Sorel in the chest. But Sorel barely went back and the kick induced a loud 'clang' sound. "W.T.F.?" Pete asked.

"Well, it's-" Sorel began but paused and scowled. "What… what on earth did you say?"

"W.T.F. Stands for 'what the fuck'."

"You're an idiot. It's longer if you spell it out! As I was saying, this…" He pointed to his where his heart was. "Is protected by a thick metal plate. No stake driven by a normal _vampire_ could get through it. Nor can your cute little crossbows."

"You wear that all the time?" Pete raised one eyebrow. "You're seriously that paranoid that you think Gerard or Mikey will just stake you when you sleep?"

Sorel flinched. "Don't call me paranoid. You don't have half the experience I do."

"I hope I never do because you are one screwed up weirdo."

Sorel twitched again, then smiled his usual cruel smile. "Peter, you shouldn't insult people… etiquette lesson number two. They could do very bad things to you." He pulled out his usual sword. "I wonder if a vampire's spleen will grow back."

-----------

"This is bad. Very, very bad!" Andy whispered to Joe, who he was tied to at their backs.

"Good one, Captain Obvious!" Joe hissed. "Use your two rapiers to break the cable!"

"They're over there," Andrew nodded at the door of the RV, accidentally bumping their heads.

"What exactly do I call this creature?" Gerard asked Mikey.

"Dunno…" Mikey laughed. "It can't be more intelligent then a mule, its best friend in the hybrid animal world."

"Go to the sword!" Joe ordered, turning around to let Andrew begin walking toward the so-near-yet-so-far rapiers.

Gerard got off his chopper and kicked Joe in the chest, sending him falling on top of Andrew.

"UUUF!" Andrew moaned. "Get off me!"

"I'm trying! Roll on your side!" Andrew obeyed, and they were able to scramble to a clumsy stand.

Andrew scampered over to the RV, forcing Joe to stumble backwards. Andrew hid in front of the RV. "Look, isn't that Pete in dire need of assistance?"

"We're in dire need of assistance, too!" Joe had a perfectly good view of Mikey and Gerard following them, but laughing too hard to really do anything to them, even run after them.

Andrew ignored Joe and came out of hiding, yelling at Sorel, "I'M GONNA THROW A JOE AT YOU!"

"WHAT DID YOU-" Joe couldn't finish yelling at Andrew because Andrew spun around suddenly, jumped up, and tackled Sorel Joe-first, knocking Sorel away from Pete.

"OH! Now I have to be serious!" Gerard yelled.

Sorel was so furious his face was turning into a different color (a color faces shouldn't be). "I TIED THEM UP FOR YOU! WHAT THE HELL ELSE DO YOU NEED ME TO DO FOR YOU?! CHOP OFF THEIR LIMBS?!"

"I-I have it under c-control, sir! T-they just got away!" Gerard stammered, moving towards Andrew and Joe.

"See how you like being tied up!" Patrick shot his net gun, catching both Mikey and Gerard in the electric net.

"UGH!" Sorel growled, clutching his head in frustration just as Andrew had picked up one of his rapiers and was cutting him and Joe loose. "GET UP! Both of you!" He snarled at Gerard and Mikey as they scrambled from under the shocking, red net.

"Are these the guys you want us to kill?" Jared yawned, walking up to Sorel with his team flanking him.

Patrick opened the door to the vehicle. "In! Now! Let's split!"

Pete jumped in and Joe and Andrew followed, Andrew accidentally knocking down Sorel again from the side.

"Now we go?" Andrew sprang into the driver's seat and put his hand on the keys in the ignition for the second time in the past fifteen minutes.

"Right!" Patrick handed him the map. "Traveling to nearest town: Take Two!"

"Stop them!" Sorel screamed. Jared pulled out a katana as the RV roared by, and stabbed it into the side of the moving vehicle, letting it escape with the sword embedded.

Jared turned and winked at Sorel. "They can run, but they can't hide."

* * *

"Uh…" Andrew looked slightly scared. "Is this even a town?" He stared at what appeared to be a humongous cement wall that seemed to stretch on for more than a mile at each side Andrew looked at. There were a few small tollbooth-like buildings seen scattered across the wall next to gates and someone was inside each one. 

Unsure of what to do, Andrew parked the RV and stared at the booths. "What are those?"

Patrick looked at them, too. "I… wonder if we're allowed inside."

Joe shrugged. "Only one way to find out." He got up from his seat at the table.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Well, good luck with that. I hope their security doesn't throw you around like ragdolls."

"I'm sure we'll be fine!" Andrew got up and stretched from sitting at the car seat too long.

Pete rolled his eyes again. "And good luck taking Andy," he said to Patrick. "He'll probably get bored just shopping around and will complain and be annoying."

"Well, it's a new town!" Patrick smiled. "I'm sure we'll find some excitement."

"'Excitement'?" Pete spat. "Yeah, 'excitement'… you'll probably get jumped… by a mob… 'cause you have weapons… and stuff…"

Patrick stuffed a shiny new crossbow in his backpack, along with stakes and a net gun. "So long as I keep them hidden, I'm sure there won't be any problems."

Pete looked surprised. "Uh, well, you know how it can be with unfamiliar towns… they could be nice… or they could be crawling with disease, or vampires, or giant rats or something." Pete tried to look uninterested in Joe opening the door to leave by picking up and skimming a random book someone had been reading and left on the bed. "You could get 'Montezuma's Revenge'. I'm just glad _**I**_ won't."

"We'll be fine. But we appreciate your concern… we'll keep away from tap water." Patrick said as he followed Andrew, who had also left. He closed the door just as Pete was trying to yell something after them about them being drugged and robbed by a homeless yet seductive twenty year-old woman who thinks they'd be rich tourists, but Patrick didn't hear him.

As they started to walk away, Patrick gave the RV a hurt look. "That's sad how obvious it is how much he doesn't want to be alone and bored."

"Well, yeah, but someone had to stay with the RV even if he wasn't a vampire," Andrew leaned his head back and drank in the sunlight. "Ohhh God, that feels SO good. Now I feel bad for Pete, too."

They walked up to one of the booths and were immediately greeted by what looked like an ordinary policeman. "You've reached the town of Eerie. What is your purpose for coming?" He stared at Patrick with emotionless, all-business eyes.

Patrick shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Uh, we're traveling and we need to stock up on supplies."

"Can I see some I.D.?"

Joe raised his eyebrows. "I.D.? We just want to get some food!"

The guard picked up a walkie-talkie without missing a beat. "Security? We have unknown visitors who won't comply to showing I.D."

Patrick took his wallet out and showed his driver's license. "No, no, here!"

The guard inspected it, then handed it back to Patrick. "And you two?" he looked at Andrew and Joe, who did the same. After inspecting theirs, the guard pressed an unseen button in his booth and the gate rose slowly. As they walked in, they heard him communicate, assumed with another guard, on the walkie-talkie. "We have three visitors coming in. Short term visitors. Confirmed to be non-vampires."

* * *


	6. Fallen Like Bachelors for Bad Luck Girls

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. I bitch; therefore, I am.**

**New character in this chapter. I know her power is kind of stupid, and you may find her Sue-ish due to her relationship with The Baron, but don't worry. She probably won't be as much of a main character as she probably should be. But we'll see.**

**I just keep going and going with the Pete-whomping, don't I?**

**Oh, and please, don't complain how throwing up is 'gross'. Please. Just don't. You've done it, too. Oh yeah, I just went there.**

* * *

Pete continued to sit alone in the RV. It was dark out, and he was running out of ways to entertain himself. He started, of course, with throwing a pillow at the door after the others left (they were resourceful and left him there to keep watch over the RV while they didn't waste time by waiting for it to be dark out… HOW DARE THEY BE EFFICIENT). Now he was mindlessly websurfing on Patrick's laptop, perusing sites and updates that he hadn't gotten the chance to lately. But he was all done, he had been on the laptop for hours now! _Stupid Patrick and stupid Joe and stupid Andy… they probably got dinner, too… and ice cream… and new clothes… and chicks…_

And so Pete sat, alone except for his instant Ramen and mindless webcomic. "Damn it, where are they?! I'm bored as shit!"

"Where are who?" Patrick opened the door to the RV, Joe and Andrew and a lot of plastic bags in tow.

"The people I was chatting with in a forum," Pete turned to the laptop screen. "They all just left."

"That sucks." Joe said, looking out the windshield. "Look, a girl. Must be a gift from the heavens."

"Hey! Move!" Pete walked up to the windshield and waved his hands to the side, trying to signal to the brunette to get out of the way.

She seemed to perk up at the sight of Pete and smiled, making a signal for him to come out.

"Well, how do you like that!" Andrew smiled and elbowed Pete. "She's got a crush on you, dude!"

"Oh, what now?!" Pete kicked opened the door and jumped out. He walked closer to her. "What part of standing in front of a LARGE VEHICLE that WANTS TO GO FORWARD IN THE NEXT MINUTE OR SO seems safe to you, huh? Move!"

She continued to smile. "You're Pete, right?"

"Maybe. Who are you?"

"Oh, good. I was right. Because not only does that answer always mean an obvious 'yes', but it means you're at least slightly intimidated by me somewhere in your subconscious."

"You're weird. Leave me alone and get out from in front of our RV."

"Oh, don't go," She pretended to give him a puppy dog look. "We still need to talk?"

"No, we don't. We have to leave!" Pete turned away from her.

"What's going on?" Joe stepped out as well, Andrew and Patrick following him within a moment.

"This girl is weirding me out," Pete pointed to her accusingly.

"Do you remember The Baron, Pete?" She asked.

He stiffened, then turned back around to look her in the eye. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me," She crossed her arms as her tone suddenly became deeper. "You killed him!"

Pete judged from her reaction that she was probably one of the many girls The Baron had 'played with' over the years and used for a regular blood source… she looked angry at him for killing The Baron, so she must be a girl who somehow thought she was more than just blood for him. "I did… why?" It was quite clear that she was on to Pete. He considered playing dumb some more but pissing her off more probably would've been _legitimately_ dumb.

"Were you, like, his girlfriend?" Andrew asked her.

She found this very funny and took a minute to laugh. When she regained herself she looked Andrew in the eye, finally someone other than Pete. "Hardly. I'm his sister."

Andrew made a horrified face. "Ew. I mean, 'Agh'!"

Pete stared back at her, in slight shock. "I, uh, didn't know… he had a sister."

She rolled her eyes. "He trapped me in a coffin for an April Fool's Day prank and buried it. There I was… in the coffin… for ten years."

"How'd you get out?" Pete asked her.

"Well, I was never really THAT good at controlling my powers…" She wiggled her fingertips. "But I had all the time I needed to practice in my coffin until I could get them to do just about anything. And now I hunger for revenge." She smiled at Pete with a menacing yet almost calm look in her eyes; the exact same look that Pete remembered from The Baron's. "And since you're the one who killed him, you'll make the perfect vengeance puppet." She smiled wider and cocked her head to the side. "Because you're _just like him_… but shorter, with shorter hair."

Pete growled at her, stepping closer. "I AM NOT JUST LIKE HIM. If you're full of a need for revenge for your brother, go cut yourself or something. Leave us alone."

"Oh no, you're not _just _a substitute for Willy… you killed him. I want revenge on you, too, because it's your fault I couldn't get revenge on him!" The scowl that had been on her face for a moment or so was replaced once again by a smile. "I hope you're more challenging than your friends."

"Our friends?" Patrick asked, confused. "You mean Sorel? Did you take him down for us or something?"

"No, those four charming boys over at the junkyard. Surely you saw my handiwork…" She thought for a moment. "I should have split them into more pieces. Then it would've been more memorable."

"THAT WAS YOU?!" Andrew screamed.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THEM?" Joe added.

"MORE PIECES?!" Pete joined in the yelling. "Tr…Travis was beheaded! And Eric…"

"Hey, the beheaded one was an oopsie!" She protested for her defense. "I didn't mean to squeeze that hard! Oh, wait… did I? Oh, never mind. I think I did. Scratch that. Yeah, that was on purpose. Wasn't one of them not on purpose…?" While she was rambling, Patrick shot a crossbow stake at her, which she simply blocked by a strange, black shield seemingly made out of energy that she formed in front of her. "Wow, that's really rude! Speaking of rude, where ARE my manners?" She extended her hand. "My name's Amy."

"What… what's that?" Patrick pointed to the shield.

"This…" She retracted the shield and shaped into a little ball of energy in her hand. "…Is my power that came from my vampirism. You didn't honestly think Billy Mr. Baron was the only one with special-ness in our family, did you? No way could I let him beat me just because he had that special little burning hands thing. It isn't even really a very good power if you think about it…" She looked to the ground in thought, but then suddenly popped her head back up and pointed to Pete. "He sired you, right?"

"Turned me into a vampire? Yes, he did. Which is partially why I killed him." Pete put his hands in his hoodie's pocket.

"What? Why? You should be grateful!"

"Uh, no I shouldn't. Me becoming a vampire was pretty much the biggest thing in life in that town that I was trying to AVOID. That's why I'm looking for a cure."

She made a face. "A _cure_? Ew, why?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE A VAMPIRE."

She paused, looked to the side, then back at Pete. "Ew… why not? Ugh, whatever the case, I need to get revenge on you. Like right now. I'm sick of talking. But I usually like it… not today, I guess. Maybe it's because I haven't had anything to eat in the past couple of days." She looked up at the four. "Do you have anything to eat that you can spare?"

Pete looked at the RV. "Uh, we have some ramen that-" Pause. "What… why am I offering you food?! NO, you can't have any food!"

"You want to see something really cool?" Amy had her hands raised menacingly. She had moved on to a whole new topic.

"Uh, no thanks," Pete scowled at her.

She smiled. "Well, _I_ want you to see it!" She laughed, and a current of her dark energy shot out from her hands and towards Pete (specifically, at his head and eyes).

"AH!" Pete clutched his eyes when they were hit. It didn't hurt so much (at least, not yet).

"Whoa! What'd you do?!" Joe shouted at Amy. She simply glanced back at Pete.

Pete took his hands off his eyes. The last thing he saw was the female vamp's smiling face before his world seemed to morph and shift in front of him.

---

"Huh? Where am I?!" Pete demanded of the darkness. His voice echoed off of almost empty streets. It was late at night, and the moon gave everything an eerie glow.

The scene gave him an instant sense of fright, and Pete was about to become even more scared if he didn't look up and see what appeared to be his three friends in the night, about ten feet in front of him.

"Hey! You guys! What's-" Pete cut himself off as he stared at another figure enter his view from the other side of Patrick, Joe and Andrew. A figure he didn't recognize.

In the moonlight, it was visible to Pete that the new figure had a formal suit on, a fedora shadowing his face, carried a cane, and wasn't that much bigger than him.

Before Pete could ask who the form was, the man lifted up his cane. He stood near Joe and lifted his cane slowly above Joe's head, holding it with both hands. Pete gawked at him, unsure of what was going on or where he was, or who this new person was.

And then before Pete could do anything to stop him, the figure suddenly brought his cane down with force onto Joe's skull, making a sickening crack sound that echoed down the street and put a splattered line of blood on the street in front of Joe.

Pete gasped. "JOE!" He shouted before Joe collapsed on the ground on his own blood, dead. "No, no, no!" Pete held his arms up to his chest frantically, nervously, now panicking.

Pete stared in horror as the shadowed outline turned around and stepped forward to Patrick next. He held his now bloodied cane out like a golf club, but held up much higher, right under the level of Patrick's head.

"Patrick! Move! Run! DO SOMETHING!" Pete called out, his legs shaking.

But Patrick stood still, as if something was blocking out Pete's cries. And so the figure whipped his cane forward, snapping Patrick's neck, breaking it, and rendering him killed as well.

"NOOO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Pete shouted to the killer, his voice cracking under the stress. He still couldn't move, only shake in fear, out of shock and terror.

The figure now turned to Andrew and aimed his cane at Andrew's back. Andrew also seemed to be in some sort of trance.

"ANDREW! GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Pete cried out to his last friend, almost in hysterics, with his finger raised up to his lip. He now dashed forward, breaking out of fear, desperate to save Andrew.

But he was too late. As he was running, the suited killer thrust his cane forward with strength and speed, going through Andrew's chest and spreading his blood out both sides. The blood all over the road seemed to stand out more in the moonlight than anything else, practically a glowing red. Then the guy took his cane out of Andrew, allowing more blood to spill as Andrew flopped onto the ground, also dead.

Pete was panting in fear. He wanted to cry, but he was too shocked to. He looked up at the figure. "NO! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"

The figure giggled and took his fedora off, tossing it backwards into a puddle of blood (on purpose). And Pete stared at the man, who was now determined to be a vampire, his fear-filled brown eyes staring into identical, wild brown eyes. Identical eyes, because Pete was staring right back at himself. He had watched himself murder his own friends and decorate the street with their blood and bodies.

Tears of fear and confusion spilled down Pete's face in the eerie moonlight as he shook, watching as his double laughed loudly, a hateful, crazy laugh that seemed to ricochet off the unidentified buildings and cement ground. Tears, because his one, most terrible fear, one that he had tried to avoid all his life, was finally here: he was all alone. And worse yet, he had caused it himself. Unable to take the rushing emotions and thoughts that flooded his head, Pete clutched his throbbing head with both hands and screamed into the nighttime. "NOOOOO! AAAAAAAAAA-"

---

"-aagh," Pete gasped as he came back into reality, immediately collapsing onto all fours and shaking uncontrollably.

"Eh?" Joe asked out loud.

"Hey! What's wrong?" Patrick kneeled down towards Pete. Andrew did the same. They had no idea what was going on; the last thing they saw Pete do before he was on the ground was get his hands off his eyes after they were shot with whatever kind of strange energy Amy had hit him with.

Then Pete threw up on the ground, making Amy look to the side and ramble. "Ew. Get some Pepto Bismol. That's what they use nowadays, don't they? Too pink for me... ew... makes me puke all over again..."

And then, just like that, Pete began to cry openly, making Patrick's mouth drop and Andrew and Joe recoil. Patrick stared at Pete in shock as Amy crossed her arms and watched them, looking bored. Patrick knew something must be very wrong… Pete would never cry like this in front of an enemy, in front of _them_, in front of ANYONE. If he was going to cry, Pete would be holding back as much as he could, biting his lip 'til it would bleed. In fact, the last time Patrick had ever seen Pete cry this hard was when he attacked a vampire from the Skinhead group on a fire escape (stupidly) and the vamp just tossed him off, causing Pete to break his leg in four places. Pete was eleven at the time. Yes… something was wrong… very wrong… to the point where it was actually beginning to scare Patrick.

"Uh, dude, what's wrong?" Andrew asked, his voice wavering. "What'd she do?"

"If this is a joke, it's not funny!" Patrick demanded, his voice also unsteady. But Pete didn't even hear him over his own sobs.

Joe had his attention turned to Amy. "What'd you do, you little witch?!"

"_Little_ witch?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm just as tall as a majority of the people in your crew,"

Just then, Joe did a very stupid thing: attacked the enemy without knowing specifically what she could do. He ran to attack her with a stake out. Without moving, she thrust her fist out to the side, and a wave of her dark energy whipped across Joe's chest and sent him flying. Luckily, he landed in their RV, on the driver's seat. He looked around in shock. "Uhhh, I guess I'm driving... and I guess we should… get out of here!"

"Right!" Patrick got up and ran back into the vehicle. Andrew followed a few seconds later with Pete slung over his shoulder like a limp towel.

Patrick slammed the door behind Andrew. "Drive!" He signaled to Joe.

As Joe sped the car away, Andrew put the twitching Pete on the small, short sofa. "This always feels SO weird to run. I hate to run. We're doing that a lot lately. We lost just now, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we lost…" Patrick looked away. "But we have to pick our battles. Without Pete we-"

"YEAH, what the HELL happened to him?" Joe glanced behind him, but then went back to the steering wheel.

"How should I know?!" Patrick spread his arms out, in an I-don't-know kind of way. "She shot him in the head with her whatever-the-crap energy and he freaked! I don't know!"

"Did he get hurt?" Andrew looked over at Pete nervously. "He was… uh… pretty… you know… broken up back there…"

Patrick shook his head. "No… he wouldn't break down like that just from _physical_ pain, not as of late. And by 'as of late' I mean the last ten years. There must be something we're not seeing."

Joe glanced back again and then waved at Andrew. "Go, go see if she's following us… or something."

Andrew walked over to the end of the RV. "You lost her, unless she has some secret 'inviso-vehicle', because I didn't see any means of transportation around her."

"Okay, good," Patrick looked back at Pete, who was on his sofa-bed, still shaking uncontrollably and whimpering like an injured puppy dog. "Uh… Pete? Are you okay?" Patrick reached out to touch Pete. But the second he did, Pete flinched and whipped his hand out to ward off Patrick, then went back into his defenseless state. He put his arms up over his head and went into the fetal position.

"Or I'll just… wait until you're, you know, more okay…" Patrick stepped away.

"Wellll, what do you want to do?" Andrew looked at Patrick. Joe put on the brakes, then turned to look at Patrick, also waiting for an answer before covering any more distance.

"Okay…" Patrick looked stressed out. "Let's just, let's just… keep going on wherever we're supposed to be going next. If Pete isn't better in two hours, we'll stop at like, a hospital or something."

"What hospitals take vampires these days?" Joe asked.

"The none kind," Andrew answered from where he was sitting on his bunk, looking defeated.

"Not necessarily. There are these 'underground vampire doctors' who do," Patrick stated. "I'm guessing the only reason vampires would want to be treated is if they had a bad enough of injury that would actually take less time to heal if it was treated by a doctor."

"I heard that if vampires get infections they won't heal," Joe asked.

"Well, infections I think just hinder it. I don't know. You'd think that their wounds heal before infection has time to set in." Patrick shrugged. "I don't know, look it up."

"Looking it up is for squares," Joe shook his head and started the RV again.

"Nah, I look things up all the time!" Patrick responded.

Silence.

"Oh. Silence. Touché."

* * *


	7. Shut Up and Drive

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. "One, two, three, four, tell me that you love me more..."**

**I'm sorry about the 'fuck the heavens' line. I didn't mean any offense.**

**And now, some much-needed shout-outs...**

**Props to my co-writer avatarjk137. I don't think he comes in this chapter at all, but he does sporadically throughout the story. If he does, it's either to do a scene he really wants to do (he gets a real kick out of doing a cool fight scene, and his almost always come out well) or it's to work me out of a block, which I am ever so grateful for.**

**More props to all of you, my readers, for frequently reviewing and giving me your compliments. Don't ever feel like you shouldn't give me tips or criticism, though. Also, I noticed some of you putting up your own fics like this. This is great, but it's also bad for me because I can no longer brag that mine is the best on the site simply because it's the _only_ one on the site. Now I have to share best-fic-spotlight. (;**

**And even more props go out to the Boys themselves. I watched the VMAs on Sunday. They kicked ass performance-wise (I just started liking "Shut Up and Drive") and snagged a pretty, much-deserved award.**

**Bleh ANGST.**

* * *

One-and-a-half hours later, Pete had 'woken up'. He was out of his trance from before, he had stopped shaking and crying. But now he sat on the edge of his makeshift couch-bed. Pete's knees were pulled up to chest, his light gray jeans standing out against his thin black hoodie and collar of his navy blue-and-red tee. His arms were hugging the tops of knees with his head bent down and resting on his kneecaps, his face hidden away. Pete hadn't even bothered to pull his hood up. 

He sat alone, refusing to let anything else from the world in. The fear and loneliness he felt in the illusion and for the last hour or so made him want to stop bothering with the world, especially if the illusion was going to be true… if that's how things were going to end up. He didn't want to lose them; he didn't want to be alone. But, hell, he already was alone.

With the recent finding of a recipe for a cure, the world suddenly seemed to reflect hope. But there were too many people fighting them on their way to find the cure. And their friends from the junk yard getting killed… did they provoke getting killed at all? Or were they just killed for the sole purpose of mentally torturing Pete and the other three? By Amy Lee… the Baron's sister. Just when he was sure The Baron was gone, he came to Pete again, and now his sibling wanted him dead, too. She pursued him just to see him squirm. And so did _Sorel_. They both would want nothing more than to pull off his legs and watch him writhe, just like the bug they always knew they could crush.

And they will. Pete was finally feeling defeated… after all these years. His friends couldn't do anything to help. Pete knew his world was destined to become darkness, full of death and… loneliness. No, God, not the friggin' loneliness!

And here Pete sat, half-conscious, his head a whirl of dark thoughts… dark, but in his opinion, true thoughts that it was time to come to terms with…

"Heyyy, Pete!" Andrew stuck a thick, hot, white mug around Pete's head. The oversized, black lettering of a web URL was a dead giveaway that the Junk Yard Heroes got it for free at a promotional event. "Looooook. Cocoa. Cocoooaaa. Please come out and say hi." Andrew waved the hot chocolate at the side of his head.

"That isn't working," Patrick shook his head, glancing at his watch. "It's 11:05 P.M… we don't have to take him to the hospital or anything, it isn't serious, but, Pete… you're still starting to get us worried."

Pete didn't respond or move in any way.

"Uh, hey Pete!" Patrick smiled. "If you stop brooding, I'll buy you a new hoodie when we get back into a town!"

Joe stopped the RV as they pulled over on the side of a tree-surrounded road. "Yeah, this is getting old. And besides, Patrick, you manage our money. You have to buy us new clothes anyway!" He smiled.

Andrew put the cocoa on the table in front of Pete. "Maybe bribery would be working better if you guys didn't keep whining 'stop brooooooding' and 'Ugh, this is old!'. You're probably making it worse."

"I'll give you a waking method. This always worked before…" Joe got up out of the driver's seat and walked over to Pete. He turned him around, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him violently. "PETE! WAKE UP!"

After a good six shakes, Patrick started to step in. "Okay, okay, Joe! That's not working!"

Joe stopped shaking Pete. The second he did, Pete pulled his knees back to his torso, turned back around, and let out a little grunt/sigh. "…Uh."

"OH! He made a noise! We're making progress here!" Joe clapped his hands once.

"Pete, there's a porn mag in the cupboard!" Patrick exclaimed, pointing to the overhead cupboard. "Do you want me to get that out for you?"

"Look, Pete! The internet!" Joe shoved the laptop towards Pete.

"Mountain Dew!" Andrew opened a can and thrust it towards Pete.

"You're the only one who likes that stuff," Patrick made a face.

"Pete, do you want to drive? Would that make you feel better?" Joe offered.

"Why would he want to do that?" Andrew asked.

"Dunno. I just wanted to offer. 'Sides, I don't wanna drive. Hey Pete, if you don't come out of hibernation, I'll noogie you. Noogies suck. You know that?"

Patrick bent down more to Pete's sitting level. "Pete? Do you want to talk about what happened? Did that girl, like…" He searched his mind for what it could've been. "Hurt… your eyes? Your head? Like, burn? Or electrocute?"

"I don't think that's working… he doesn't want to talk to us," Andrew popped open the Mountain Dew. "Maybe we should leave him alone,"

"You want us to leave you alone?" Patrick asked him. He sounded like he was offering to take a three year-old who was just disappointed out to ice cream.

"Uhhhn," Pete's grip around his own knees tightened.

"Is that a no?" Andrew asked. He had already downed half the soda.

"Well, do you want us to leave you alone or make you happy or stay and talk to you or WHAT? Tell us!" Patrick was getting frustrated.

Tired of Pete being closed up, Joe rolled his eyes. But at the end of his blue eyes' journey, they came across a rock lying on the ground. _Must've come in when I was tossed in here by that crazy chick. _He picked it up, still rolling his eyes. "Hey look, Pete… a rock…" He haphazardly tossed it towards Pete without looking.

But he didn't realize that he hit Pete in the head until it made a 'clonk' noise. Pete fell out of his curled-up state and flopped onto the floor from the impact.

"JOE!" Patrick yelled at Joe. "WHAT THE _HELL_ DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!"

"We-well, I didn't think I would hit him! I didn't mean to-" Joe scurried about frantically.

"Owww…" Pete stirred on the ground and rose himself up. "That hurt!"

"Hey! You're out of your cocoon!" Joe pointed to Pete.

"Uh… yeah. It's kind of hard to keep in one position with _people throwing rocks at you_."

"Sorry…"

"No problem," Pete waved his hand, as if shooing a fly and turned to Patrick. "'Trick, do we have any food?"

"Yeah, check in the mini fridge, there's some left-… -o-… -ver… wait, what?!" Patrick asked Pete instead of fully answering Pete's question.

"I said, is there food?!"

"No, no, what you called me."

Pete raised one eyebrow. "…Do you not like 'Trick? I know you don't like Pat that much-"

"Which is why we say it…" Andrew interjected.

"-And I'm not going to take the time or the tongue to say two syllables all the time. Pick one."

"No, it's no problem!" Patrick raised his hands up to defend himself. "You just haven't called me 'Trick' since we were kids."

Pete shrugged. "And you don't want me to?"

"N-… no! I mean, yes? Or… no! I… just… am… wondering..." Patrick would like to buy a vowel, please. "We were… kids, and-"

Joe interrupted him. "Yes indeed, kids at one point or another, unless we were created in a lab more recently than we thought and someone injected memories directly into our brains."

"Uh… never mind, you can call me whatever you want to," Patrick sounded fatigued. "So, what happened with you and the girl back there?"

"Long story. No big deal. We got a working microwave in here instead of just a hot plate?" Pete had a frozen miniature pizza box in one hand (with processed meats on top) and a bottle of the bloodlust-curbing mixture that he put in Patrick's potion in the other.

"How can something be a long story and no big deal at the same time?" Andrew chuckled and crossed his arms.

"The dictionary's long… no one ever makes a big deal out of the dictionary. Nobody ever takes into account how great a dictionary really is. Almost any definition you want, right there, at your fingertips!" Pete explained. "And 'Rolling Stone' magazine. Have you seen that thing lately? Compared to other magazines, it's huge! And not just in terms of using a ruler to measure its length and width. Lots of pages. But Rolling Stone's no big deal. Same with the Bible."

"To hundreds of millions of people, the Bible's an extremely big deal," Patrick interjected.

"You're taking away from my point. So how about that microwave?"

"Wait. What about that girl? She made you cry." Andrew brought it up again.

Now this pissed Pete off. Why couldn't they just leave him alone about it? It was none of their business, even if he was too hysterical to stand… right in front of them. The fact that Andrew had to join nosey Patrick in badgering Pete about this made Pete so pissed that he wanted to just kick Andy in the shin…

"Ouch!"

And Pete just couldn't resist the temptation, and kicked him in the shin.

"OUCH!"

Twice.

"Pete, don't take it out on Andy. He didn't do anything. We're just worried." Patrick insisted.

"Why don't you be worried with my foot up your ass?"

"Touchy, touchy!" Joe commented.

Pete shot a glare at Joe. Why the hell were his friends so annoying today? Why couldn't they let this be and accept their first idea of him getting shot in the _eyes_ by The Baron's sister or something?

And as Pete absentmindedly fiddled with the box, pretending to read the directions and look back and forth at the beat-up, secondhand microwave and the pizza box, he decided that the current situation called for a quick mental Q&A:

_Q: Why are they so annoying today?_

_A: They're being nosey._

_Q: Why are they being nosey?_

_A: They saw you cry._

_Q: Why do they need to know so badly?_

_A: Answer not available. No idea. Maybe they're just nosey. Maybe Patrick's got OCD and we never knew. Would explain a lot._

_Q: How do we solve this?_

_A: Duh, lie._

"Do you honestly need to know?" Pete growled/whined to the others.

"Yes!" Three simultaneous answers. They honestly needed to know.

"She has some sort of weird power to cast illusions," _That part's true_.

"That would explain a lot!" Patrick jumped up from his sitting position to look at Pete.

"Yep, it does. Does this microwave even work?" Pete opened the door and peered inside, occupying his hands and eyes by poking around inside.

"What did she have you see?"

_Fuck you and your details, Patrick. _Now, Pete was having trouble…. Details were when the lying came in."I don't even fully remember. It was really weird, though. Kind of like a dream or something." _More like a nightmare. _"More like a nightmare," _Well, at least I told them that part. Now it's not lying, it's absence of truth. A lot of truth. _

Silence for a minute. _Thank the heavens for finally doing something for me after all these years._

"Okay, what did you see?" Joe demanded.

_Fuck the heavens. And fuck Joe, too. _But Pete finally gave in, suddenly tossing the microwavable pizza (beginning to thaw now) aside. "She made me see that you were all getting killed and crap!" he whined and then plopped down on his makeshift sofa-bed.

"ME?!" Joe shouted in shock, pointing to himself.

"NO! All of you!"

"Ohhh, okay. Wait, that's still bad."

"Yeah," Patrick agreed. "Who was killing us?"

"I don't know," Pete knew that if he told them he saw himself killing them, they might be freaked out from just being around him. And he was meaning to tell Patrick about his bloodlust lately too, so he could fix up the mixture to make it stronger or something… now that idea was out the window. "Just some guy was doing it,"

"Who was killing us?" Andrew repeated.

"ME! I saw myself killing you! It was so SICK!" Pete shouted, scooting farther back into the seat in an attempt to make himself comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. He grabbed a pillow, squeezing and shaking it halfheartedly, then buried his face in it and brought his knees up to his chest... a familiar position as of late. "N iwshindndytft n eh wshlfn-"

"WAIT. What?" Joe yanked the pillow away.

"I was in a Dandy outfit! And I was laughing! As if I was enjoying, or maybe it was an order, or maybe I was hypnotized in the dream. I don't know!"

Pete stared back at Joe, but wasn't getting a verbal reaction. He was just getting Joe looking back at him, looking shocked and a little scared.

Pete looked at Patrick and Andy, too. They were scared as well.

And now, the vigilantes would learn why the Holding it In rule was a bad one.

Pete put his fingertips up to his forehead. It appeared to be some worthless attempt to bring comfort and security to his mind through his fingers. "Why... are you guys scared of me?"

Patrick swallowed, then looked behind him at Joe and Andy and realized they were leaving the speaking up to him. "We're not scared of you, dude, we-"

"I thought you would understand," Pete kept his fingers on his forehead, not looking at Patrick, but at the ground. His voice was calm, but far from controlled. It sounded foreign, not a happy calm, an almost demented or possessed calm. Unsteady to the point of being almost rhythmic. "I thought you would know by now that I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to, so even if I did, I would never... think to..."

"Pete! C'mon! You know we don't mean to..." Patrick searched for the right words. "We're not SCARED of you! We're just worried-"

"About yourselves," Pete was pushing on his forehead and the small joints in his fingers were turning pale.

"No!" Patrick sounded a little bit panicked and was desperate to get something good or at least something non-destructive out of this whole scene. "Listen to me!"

"YOU listen to me," Pete hissed, his voice still weirdly calm. "You're not even listening to the whole story, to MY side of it!" His voice was losing its calm waver.

"_Pete!_ I'm trying to get your side of the story, but you're just freaking out!" Patrick swallowed again, wondering if his next set of words was a good idea. "If... if you don't want us to be scared of you, don't act like you're... totally..."

"I AM NOT-"

"GIVE ME A CHANCE TO SPEAK!"

Andrew stepped forward. "Stop yelling, you guys! You're not going to accomplish anything by-"

Joe physically yanked Andrew back. "Andy! Stay out of it!"

"YOU JUST WON'T-" Pete was cut off by a dripping off his forehead. He pulled his hands away. Four little fingernail-shaped, red marks in his forehead dripped down four little streams of blood onto his eyes and face.

* * *


	8. Mistakes: This Time With Feeling!

**Disclaimer: I own little within. Stupid, meaningless phrase not available. Please try again later.**

**I'm sorry for slow updates. I do weird things like send in chapters and then forget I have them. School is a huge amount of work right now, since my school seems to think I can handle a college course AND other high level classes when I'm a high school freshman (for some demented reason).**

* * *

"Uhhh…" Pete looked at his fingernails, then at the little red droplets that had begun to decorate the ground. "…Oops?" 

"'Oops'? 'Oops'? That's all you gotta… 'oops'?" Joe tossed him a towel. "Wipe your face. Wipe all of the 'oops' off of it. I'll oops your ass one of these days."

Andrew started to laugh.

"What… is so funny?" Joe demanded of him, clearly pissed.

"You… you just… and he… with the… you were all 'oops'… I mean you were just freaking with the 'oops' there…" Andrew gasped between laughs. "It's just… it's just… it's just funny, that's all."

Joe looked angry. Pete looked confused. And Patrick looked like he had been without sleep for days on end.

Pete laughed a bit as well. "I guess that was kinda… funny." Patrick gave a small laugh and Joe crossed his arms and made a deeper scowl. Pete continued to laugh until a drip sound interrupted them. "Uhhh..." Pete wiped his chin, where the blood was falling. "This time I say… oh, fudgie-wudgie?"

"WHAT THE-" Andrew erupted into hysterical laughter.

Joe continued in vain to fight his smile as Patrick laughed out loud. "Dude, where'd you even GET that expression?"

"I don't know," Pete giggled.

Instead of a dripping sound, this time their rare happy moment was interrupted by a knock at their door. After everybody caught their breath and Pete began wiping his face, Patrick looked out the window. He turned to Pete and whispered to him, "There's a car out there, but I can't see anybody from this angle-"

"Just answer it!" Pete tossed him a crossbow gun for 'just in case'.

With a hesitant hand, Patrick opened the door, expecting to find Sorel's sneering face or The Baron's scary sister. Instead, what he found was better and worse at the same time.

"Hey, mister, I need to borrow some gas. It's all night-ish outside, and we're all OUT!" Claire smiled at him and put her hands on her hips, flipping her blonde hair back. "You look familiar. Have I taken advantage of you before?"

* * *

"So now you're going off on your own?" Sorel's leather jacket-clad arms were crossed as scowled at his hired help. 

"We know what we're doing," Jared insisted. His crew was already waiting for him, no bags packed. Their swords were the only visible belongings.

"Damn straight, you BETTER be!" Sorel growled. "If I don't find you three on the outskirts of the town named 'Purity' in a month and a half and it turns out you're still undead, then so help me I will-"

"Rip our heads off, shove them brutally back on, then rip them back off, shove them back on, then stake us?" Jared finished.

"You ought to be thinking that burning will play a part in that!" Sorel warned.

"Fine. If I do not come back to you with four dazed, possibly injured, uh, no… PROBABLY injured but alive men whose names are Pete, Patrick, Andrew, and, uh… uhhh… J… Jacob-"

"They call him Joe… so that's probably his name…"

"Yeah, that one, then you can reduce my pay for the delay. And even then, I will not stop."

"I would think not."

Meanwhile, Gerard and Mikey sat side by side, both leaning on Gerard's motorcycle. Mikey's was off to the side.

They were silent watching Sorel argue with Jared, until Mikey finally spoke up. "Do you think Sorel's a bad leader? Do you think this is a bad group?"

"Mikey, shut up!" Gerard snarled, fearing that Sorel would hear. But Mikey did of course just voice what Gerard asks himself fifty times a day.

"All he does is boss us around. Just because we're scared of him."

"What's wrong with you? Are you trying to get us killed?!" Gerard said, simultaneously confirming what his brother said. "If Sorel hears us talking mutiny like this, there will be no questions asked!"

"We can't do this forever!" Mikey hissed back, his voice rising from the whisper Gerard was insisting on. "Is Sorel going to start up a new gang or what?! He keeps saying he's looking for new recruits, but… he's a friggin' alcoholic! All he does is sit around and drink and eat colorful candy!"

Gerard angled his head to one side. "I thought you loved happy hour!"

"I do…" Mikey looked to the side longingly. "I… like it with those bounty hunters. They're fun. And there's more of us! But now they're gone and it's back to just the three of us!" Then, Mikey put on a pleading, slightly saddened look. "Come ON, Gerard! I don't _want_ to stick around here if it's just the three of us forever! I'm not _happy_ like this! Neither are you! Even HE probably isn't!" Mikey nodded towards Sorel on the last note. "You can't honestly tell me you like happy hour now better than you did with Elisa and Gabe and Brandon and… those other people!"

Before Gerard could answer, Sorel shouted after them. "It's midnight! Happy hour!" He was already one beer away from being drunk (ALREADY) and the bounty hunters were gone.

Gerard forced a smile to Mikey. "You heard the man. Happy hour!"

"Fine," Mikey followed Gerard over to where Sorel and comfort in a bottle were.

* * *


	9. When Small Talk Gets Old

**Disclaimer: I own little within. This is usually the part where people start to scream.**

**Early in this chapter, I use a joke until it becomes like a flattened little joke pulp on the ground. My cowriter later does the same**

**"Fat, angry" part is my cowriter stepping in for a bit. **

* * *

"This is so road trippy!" Claire screamed in sheer delight. 

"Oh, it's trippy all right…" Joe mumbled.

"I feel like I'm on a tour with rock stars!" Claire's friend Braids agreed. She flipped one of her (what else but?) elaborate braids over her shoulder.

Andrew laughed. "Rock stars…"

Pete half-smiled. "Yeah, right. Imagine. Us. Winning MTV awards and stuff and doing tours for thousands of fans… pfft. As if."

Joe joined in. "Yeah. And Pete would be the teen-magazine pin-up boy!" Then he could no longer hold it in and cracked up at the very thought.

"Guys, can we please stop talking about stupid fantasies that will never, EVER happen?" Patrick interrupted. He was driving and all this ridiculous daydreaming was distracting him.

"Relax, Patrick. We've only been on the road again for like, five minutes." Joe responded.

"This is so much fun!" Claire yelled.

"Let's play games!" Braids added.

"GAMES!" Noodle (presumably a nickname), an Asian girl and the last girl of Claire's group, agreed.

"Truth or dare!" Claire shouted.

"No! Everyone loses in that game!" Andrew protested. "Pick something that's fun for a longer time, not just when someone's the victim."

Claire paused. She didn't scowl, though; it was against her nature. "Then…. SPIN THE BOTTLE!"

"NO!" Andrew answered.

"Well, then what are we supposed to do?" Claire crossed her arms and pouted (which is not quite scowling).

"TWIZZLER!" Shouted Noodle, her English questionable.

Patrick turned around and made a face. "Come on, you guys. Quit it with the games that would induce sexual feelings."

"Oh! How about 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'?" Braids eagerly suggested as the other two girls and Joe clapped their hands in hopeful glee.

"_What did I just say?!_" Patrick's patience was wearing thin.

"This hoodie smells like cheap cologne!" Out of nowhere, Claire put a hoodie on her bright blue tank top. It was solid black with a big, bright purple bat graphic on the bottom.

"HEY!" Pete jumped forward and lunged for the hoodie, making the younger girl bounce back. "TAKE THAT OFF! It's mine!"

Joe scratched his nose (for no particular reason other than there being an itch. Seriously.) "It fits her freakishly well, Pete. You should think about eating more."

"Or eating at all!" Andrew joked, helping himself to what must've been his third Mountain Dew that day.

"Yeah, you're going to have to develop regular eating patterns now that you're going to be human again," Patrick added. He stopped the RV for a moment to look over a map.

Claire's smile dropped in surprise. She cocked her head to the side in her usual way and stared at Pete, wide-eyed. "What? You're going to be human again?!" She played with the hood on the black hoodie.

"Yeah," Pete couldn't help but smile at the mention of his becoming human again, this meaning that he had clearly been waiting a long time for this (the moment he became a vampire, to be precise). However, this also clearly meant that he hadn't taken into account (or maybe just forgotten) how feasible the cure not working may be. "We found a cure for vampirism. And I'm going to take it!"

"Wowwww! That's coooooolll." Claire smiled for Pete. But when Patrick turned to look at her, he recognized a flash of something else in her eyes, not like anything he had seen in Claire's often naïve blue eyes. Jealousy, maybe?

"Sooo, how much longer?" Joe asked Patrick.

"Dunno. The nearest major town isn't that far away. Half an hour, maybe?"

"Okay. I have an idea!" Joe declared, turning to face Claire. "Hey, I have a game."

"Oh, goody! What is it?!" She yelled.

"The Silent Game. First one to talk loses! Startiiinnng… NOW!"

She jumped up and down in glee. "I LOOOOOOSE!"

"_AAAAAGH!_"

* * *

"You know, I thought when you were taking us to a major town, Patrick, by 'major' town, you meant developed," Pete growled, scowling out the window. In the night sky, the medium-sized settlement that the RV had stopped in front of looked like it was on its last legs. And they hadn't even ventured in. 

A sign that had a good chunk taken out of it read 'Welcome to Stable, Population:' and the population number had been torn off. Behind it, only a few buildings were immediately visible. At first glance, the first thing to pop into your head when looking at what once was a strip mall with a post office, video store, and organic market would be the word 'ravaged', similar to the way the first thing to pop into your head when looking at a full-to-the-brim dumpster would be 'garbage'.

Pete was the first to brave stepping out of the car. Then came Joe, then Claire (eager to lead her group), then the rest of Claire's clique pushing out before Andy and Patrick stepped out. The smell of something burning was all around, and the only sounds immediately audible were the sound of someone running by on desperate feet and another in hot pursuit.

"Well…" Pete broke up the nervous silence. "Let's head in."

"It looks kinda spooky!" Claire grabbed Pete's arm in one half real fear, one half fake fear, taking pleasure out of the fact that she just happened to be standing right next to him.

"Yeah!" Braids looked to her immediate left and saw Andy. She sprinted over a couple feet and reached Pete's other side, grabbing hold of it. "I'm SOOO SCARED!"

Pete ignored both the girls, not liking them enough to give them any words of comfort but maybe having a small fear deep within his subconscious mind like them, since he wasn't pushing them away.

Simply walking into the town proved to be the easiest way to get in, considering that there was no one there to ask for I.D., unlike the last town (pointed out by Patrick). As suspected, the first strip of shops was completely abandoned: half-destroyed or completely destroyed, windows broken or boarded up (or both), doors either hanging off the hinges or nonexistent. In front of the organic market was a pile of rotten fruit complete with flies buzzing around it, a few scattered pieces of money and a cloves of garlic, all strewn within a little five-foot spot, indicating that a thief had tried to steal something and was warded off. The next building was just an empty shed probably used for storage. 'NO MORE VAMPS' was spray-painted in huge, ugly, bright red letters across the side.

As they continued walking, they passed a large empty lot where a small group of people were gathered in a tight circle, their backs to the vigilantes and their company. Pete originally suspected they were doing some sort of illegal drug, they way they were so tightly packed, but upon taking a good hard look he realized each one of them was sucking blood out of their own little packets (they looked to be for an I.V. and were probably stolen from a hospital).

They also passed a small group of houses in a patch of mini-suburbia. The houses were not destroyed, but heavily boarded up, light seeping through cracks between wooden or metal panels. Other than that it looked like a nice little row of houses, and rock music with unimaginative guitar work was blasting out of one of the houses. When they reached the end of the street, the group stopped short when someone called out to them.

"Hey! Where are you going?" A teenage boy was looking out a first story window at the strange group. The window he had opened appeared to be _padded_, but still obviously could be pulled up and down like any other window (probably locked inside). The boy with a dark brown mop hairdo stared at them with a perplexed face, like they had just grabbed a handful of grass from his yard, put it in their hair, and did jazz dancing.

"Uh… to your town…" Joe answered.

More surprise. "What? WHY? Are you crazy?"

"No… we're hungry."

"…What, are you hobos or something?"

"We're not HOBOS! We're just coming in to do some grocery shopping."

"Well if you want raw meat, forget about it."

"Wait. Back up." Patrick interrupted. "Why are we crazy for going into your town?"

"Because the vampires will get to you!" He said in a 'duh' sort of way. "Didn't you know? Besides, it's way past local curfew. Not that anyone's out to enforce it anyway…"

"We can defend ourselves," Pete snapped. He continued walking. Claire and Braids continued to hang on to him, and Claire gave the boy a little wave when she left.

"Feh. I'll be there over your dead bodies to say 'I told you so' when we have to do city cleaning for volunteering credits at school."

"Aren't you pleasant."

Andrew lagged a bit to add, "Oh yeah, you may also want to try some other music, some older stuff maybe, because the stuff you're listening to isn't that good!"

"It's MY music! I MADE IT!" He yelled.

"Oh!" Andrew giggled. "Sorry!" But before he could finish, he heard the 'thump' of the window shutting.

Another lot or so further was another clump of buildings. It was a small town, but enough shops to separate housing and commercial buildings. When the group entered, they were greeted by screams, laughs and strange-looking people. One man about in his thirties was sitting on the stoop of a bookstore, looking perfectly calm, searching his pockets for something, wearing a T-shirt and khakis and a long bib-like collar made entirely out of cloves of garlic.

A teenage girl with two plastic shopping bags and soaking wet hair pushed through Pete's tightly wound clump. When she did, Pete, Claire, Noodle, and Braids all jumped back with a start.

"What?" Andy raised an eyebrow.

"That… that girl!" Pete pointed to her as she walked down the road towards the houses, not paying any attention to them. "Her… her hair!"

"What about it?"

"It's soaked in HOLY WATER!" He grimaced, and then spat as if the taste of it hung in his mouth.

"Ewww…" Claire hid behind Pete, stealing a glance at his butt.

"Whoa! Look at that!" Andrew pointed down a dark alley, where a fat, angry man stood with a titanium baseball bat, apparently beating three children in public. "What the hell?"

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!" Patrick yelled angrily as he ran over to the man.

"I'm getting rid of these three!" The fat, angry man replied angrily. "They're abominations!" Sure enough, the man was human, but the kids' pale complexions and the fact that their broken limbs were already beginning to heal back into place indicated vampirism.

"You're the only abomination I see here!" Patrick yelled. "They're just kids! They're victims in all this!"

The angry man opened his fat mouth to reply angrily and fatly, but before he could, Joe slammed his fist into the back of the man's fat, angry head, causing him to drop to the pavement like a mound of dazed and angry jelly. Andy and Joe then went to work untying the kids. "You guys get out of here," Andy said, slashing the ropes. The kids nodded fearfully and ran off, disappearing into the shadows in seconds.

"Hey, look! Mean… person!" Noodle pointed out as she led her friends over.

"Let's drink his blood!" Claire said. "I'm thirsty, and he's like a big angry tomato!"

"If you all drink from him, he might die of blood loss," Patrick warned.

"And this fact will haunt us for the rest of our lives," Braids replied.

"Where's Pete?" Joe asked.

"Over there," Braids said, waving in a general direction as Claire dug in. Joe nodded in understanding and walked in the opposite direction, soon leading Andy and Patrick to Pete.

"Here he is," Joe said, happy that he figured out how to procure directions from Braids. "Wassup, Pete?"

Pete was staring at a large, leafless oak tree. From the largest branch hung a coffin. The coffin had been roped to the tree, impaled several times with various silver objects, and spray-painted with the words 'SUKKERS GET OUT!' Next to it on the trunk of the tree itself, a dead body of a human woman was nailed to the tree. Graffiti on her chest spelled out the reply, 'I FOR AN I'. "Guys," Pete said, "This place is, like, at war with itself."

"Uh, yeah, Pete, thanks for pointing that out," Joe said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe we shouldn't make it too visible that 4 out of 7 of us are vampires and another 4 are vampire hunters," Patrick muttered.

"Hey!" Claire yelled with enthusiasm dripping from her voice. "LOOK WHAT WE MADE!" Noodle handed her a big piece of white-painted cardboard, on which her and her friends had spray-painted 'WE'RE VAMPIRES!' in bright red all-caps. "We thought it would help to keep vampires from attacking us if they thought we were humans!"

"WHAT? You're vampires?" A young pale woman growled from behind, her oversized fangs poking out under a crazy-looking sneer. Her bright red, short cut hair contrasted greatly with the vivid blue bandana tied over it. "NO NO NO! GET OUT! GO AWAY! There are too many people here already! You're in our territory!"

Another girl about her age, with long, thick brown hair and a purple-and-green cap (equally as bright as the other's bandana), shouted back. "What is WRONG with you? It's NOT YOUR TERRITORY! It never was! You should leave, and so should they!" On the last note, she pointed an incriminating finger at the vigilantes and Claire's group.

"If you weren't wearing one of those _gaudy_ garlic necklaces I would be feeding on you till you're effin' bones!"

"We should… make a quick getaway…" Patrick murmured to Pete.

"To _where?_ Look at this place!" Pete was referring to how in every direction, people (dead and undead alike) were flocking. Most of the humans were wearing some manner of vampire protection, such as multiple silver or garlic necklaces or hair wet with holy water. A majority of the vampires looked skinny, sickly, and starving, probably due to a combination of all the protective methods the humans were taking against them and vampire overpopulation. People of all ages were yelling, all worked up. Shouts and gibes were loud, proud and many.

"Blow 'em up! That'll get 'em ta go away!"

"Oh, your sorry asses can't stand a chance against us!"

"OH YES WE CAN! You look like you've seen better days, eh?!"

"How am I supposed to get a 4.0 GPA with all this shit happening?!"

"I didn't want to be this!"

And then, just a couple comments later, the feel seemed to change...

"There are too many vampires here already!"

"Drive these goddamned visitors OUT! We don't need 'em!"

"They've come to ransack us for what we have left!"

"Then let's burn 'em!"

"Feed on 'em!"

"KILL THEM!"

"RUN!" Pete shouted, pushing the others through a slew people to emerge on another side.

* * *


	10. Tilting Windmills

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me..."**

**Because someone pointed out an error to me before, you may notice a not-so-subtle switch in my fic soon, of me calling him 'Andy' instead of 'Andrew'. So, if after this chapter you still see a few 'Andrews' floating around, know that it's still the same person and that within the next few chapters I'll try to make the permanent change to Andy. It's easier for me to write anyway.**

**Also, not quite this chapter, but also within the next few, POVs may change a bit too (though I write in third person, I try to keep it to one person's mindset unless the scene just comes out in third-person omniscient). Anyways, though I usually make Pete or Patrick the main point of view, I'm eventually going to try on Andy and Joe POVs for size. It's about time they started getting more attention from me.**

* * *

"But where do I run?!" Claire screeched. 

"ANYWHERE! Follow us!"

"I'm so safe right now!" Obviously as Braids gets more nervous, her lies push it even more.

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" Noodle added, panic in her voice.

Pete bit his lip. _THANKS A LOT. Make me feel guilty, why don't you. _"To the van!"

"Are we still being chased?" Patrick slowed his pace a bit and turned his head around. He came to a full stop when he realized they weren't. "Wait, wait, wait, guys. They've stopped badgering us."

"Then who are they badgering?!" Joe shouted.

"Each other!"

It was true. The crowd had not moved in an inch towards the visitors they were acting so volatile and bloodthirsty towards a minute ago and were too busy attacking each other. It was a huge, swarming mass of movement and screams. Two vampires pounced on a shrieking teenage girl of whom one of them had bravely yanked off her garlic necklace. The shocking red-haired vampire girl from before fell out of the crowd, only to become ashes when hitting the ground, leaving her bandana and a bloodied stake behind.

Leaving the horror movie that was Stable behind, the seven-some ran off, and this time didn't slow their pace until they reached the van and clambered inside.

"Okay!" Patrick sat, panting, on Pete's vintage couch-bed. "THAT was terrifying. Let's leave and never come back. Now."

"Where do we go?" Joe sat down at the driver's seat. He usually disliked being the driver, but seemed to just want to get out.

"Just… keep going in any direction until we reach a town," Patrick looked over at Claire and her friends. "We can… get ice cream while it's still early morning."

"Ice cream!" Claire clapped her hands.

"Happy fun time!" was Noodle's broken English.

* * *

Sorel was enjoying the wind he was so familiar with as he biked along with Gerard and Mikey in tow. No helmet was necessary, as he had grown used to any debris that would clonk against his head. 

He was NOT, however, used to human-shaped speed bumps.

"WHOA!" He quickly hit the brakes on his precious chopper before he could go skidding into some poor dude in his early thirties (he's poor because someone wished to send him sliding across a dirt road in front of a speeding motorcycle). "What the hell are you doing?! You could've ruined my chopper! Get out of my way!"

He didn't respond to Sorel. "Man… I can't believe we just got beat by some chick in a frilly dress…"

"What's wrong with my dress?!" Amy growled as she stepped over to him, flipping her long, thick onyx hair away from her face. "When I was young, this is how we dressed! This was for outdoors!" She pointed to her black-and-red corset style dress with crimson lace all over the poofy skirt. "Besides, this is my favorite. Many fond memories in this dress. Why, I recall the day my first boyfriend spilled tea all over it…" As she said this, she stepped towards the man, ignoring what was probably his two dead buddies behind her. "I was so mad at him that day… I think the stain is still on it…" She looked down at her dress as some sort of soft, thick, liquid-y type of shadow substance leaked out of her fingers and towards her victim, crawling over him and on his face. "It is! It is there! That makes me mad…" The shadows slithered inside his mouth as he gagged and panicked. "So… very… MAD!" She suddenly stuffed a stream of them inside the poor man, until he was beginning to swell like a busted lip, and seconds later his gut _exploded_.

Yes.

He exploded.

Sorel ignored the explosion and the entrails now raining on Mikey, however. He looked very surprised at something else (someone else, actually). "A…AMY? Is that YOU?"

She finally acknowledged Sorel's presence (She still hadn't, though, for Gerard or Mikey). "And… Sorel?"

"Yes! Why, I haven't seen you since Billy Baron locked you up in that fucking coffin!" He took a pause to laugh. "And it took you this much time to get out?"

"Silence, you fool," she snapped. Sorel did quiet down, but he didn't look scared, only angry, probably only shutting up out of shock that someone would order him to shut up in the first place. "Just because some little punk-rat killed my brother does NOT mean I am not still above you."

Sorel rolled his eyes. "Emphasis on little. And you're not ABOVE me. No one is above me now! I LIVE BY MY OWN RULES NOW!"

"If anything, he is a leader now. And a better one than The Baron to boot." Gerard added helpfully. Sorel nodded to him.

"Brown-noser," Mikey coughed. Sorel glared at Mikey. "Sorry, I got small intestines in my larynx."

"Oh, and he leads what? Two yes-men?" Amy sneered. "Just because there is no more order that is set by who you are scared of does not mean I am not above you."

"Yes-men?! Hardly!" Mikey snorted disrespectfully. "Sir, do you want us to just take care of her, or-"

"This is my personal business," Sorel snapped, not turning to look at Mikey.

"Fine," Gerard didn't mind giving a helpful word before, but still looked satisfied to not be physically dragged into it.

"By 'take care of me', I assume your yes-men meant that they would be sandbags for me to kick around," She held her posture high. But then she smiled and turned to Gerard's general direction, shielding one side of her mouth with the back of her hand, her palm facing Sorel, as if she were whispering a secret to him (high school girl style exchange). "And by personal business, means he used to be one of my boy toys!"

"WHAT?!" Sorel screamed at her, ignoring Gerard's look, which was a combination of his shock, embarrassment for Sorel, and him desperately trying to keep the corners of his mouth from poking their way up.

"Yes, you were, how do the kids say it nowadays… my 'bitch'."

"I WAS NOT…!"

"Are they yours?" Amy was referring to Gerard and Mikey.

"NO!" Mikey stomped his foot on the ground. "We are NOT!"

Now Gerard was insulted, too. "The only time he's ever made advances on us was when he was inebriated! Way more than usual!"

Sorel turned his growling attention to Gerard. "YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

* * *

_Entry Number 231_

_I should be more punctual about making these entries. It is difficult having to write more and more each time._

_I should summarize what has happened since my last entry._

_Pete is acting very different. As the cure for vampirism comes closer and closer to our grasp, he becomes less volatile and cold. But this may have been happening before the priest gave us this option and I did not even notice. It's a welcome change._

_And the cure would be, too. I know he wishes I don't, but I see the way he looks at us when we have to dress an open wound. _

_Andrew is as optimistic as ever and that may be part of what is shaping Pete's new attitude. Joe is acting no different, but is almost as impatient as Pete is to get the cure._

_I am trying to work on a new weapon, but it is difficult to get anything done with so many new enemies. _

_Claire (I have previously mentioned her) and her two friends, who go by 'Braids' and 'Noodle' (again, all vampires), are following us. For just a little while, I will let them; I feel bad for them, in a way. They seem to be having fun but don't have any direction as to where to go next. Maybe they just need something to work towards…_

_As far as I can see, the only misfortune of this cure is what a change of lifestyle it will be for Pete. If he can not quickly revert to a regular sleeping and eating pattern, he will become weak, which will be magnified by the loss of vampiric powers and ability to use himself as a weapon without worrying about physical repercussions. _

_And if this cure does not work, they may be the last thing to break him or push him away._

_I worry if he leaves us, he will leave himself open to_

"PATRICK!" Joe shouted at Patrick, who was seated on a sticky plastic table, writing in his extensive journal. "What kind of ice cream do you want?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know. Vanilla sundae? Anything. Make it cheap."

"Vanilla sundae for the indecisive one!" Joe called out to Pete and Andy, who were making orders.

"Right. Coming on up," the large-nosed clerk said, scooping Patrick's vanilla sundae and the ice cream for Joe's chocolate milkshake.

"Nothing for me, thanks, I'm vegan," Andy said. The clerk seemed to find this mildly amusing and chuckled.

Pete noticed a sign that read 'Try Our Raspberry-Garlic Ice Cream!' "I'll have some of that," he said, pointing to the poster. "With nuts."

"Masochist," Andy whispered to him.

"Vegan," Pete replied. "Besides, I'm building up a resistance."

"You're ruining your ice cream is what you're doing. Besides, I don't think it'll get any higher."

"Whatever." Pete grabbed the ice cream the clerk presented him with, and stalked off to the table. "You're paying."

"_Patrick,_" Andrew whined. "Get over here and pay! You have all the _money_."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Patrick walked over to the register and paid, and the group sat down and enjoyed their ice cream for a few minutes. Andrew grabbed a soda from the shop's cooler, supporting his vegan-ocity.

Suddenly, Pete looked up from the grimace he wore as he shoveled ice cream into his mouth. "Some people are coming."

"Relax," Joe said placatingly, "I'm sure it's not Sorel or any of the other usual psychos." Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and a bullet burst through the closed glass door, slamming into the cash register. As everybody stared at the sparking register, another bullet crashed through the door pane and sunk into the young ice cream man's small bicep, causing him to scream and drop to his knees. "Get down!" Joe yelled.

Everybody ducked under the table. "Who drive-by's a Baskin Jerry's, SERIOUSLY?!" Patrick yelled. "Can't a guy write in peace?!"

"-An't believe I missed!" A raucous voice carried through the door. "It's still stuck on my arm!" The damaged door swung open, and Pete and the others watched as four pairs of shined black shoes under four pairs of black long pants walked up to the counter. Blood dripped in front of one pair. "It's bleeding and everything! How awesome is this!"

"It sure is… awesome, Agent JK," a younger man's voice replied.

"Call me sir, boy!"

"Stop shooting the damned thing and find a better way to remove it!" A deeper voice yelled at them. The voice then calmed down. "Two egg creams, a brown cow, and a cola float to go, and you had better have U-Bet."

"YOU SHOT ME! IN THE ARM!"

"Hmm?" This was a female voice, followed by a pause. "Why yes we did. Sorry, he's a bit of a rogue agent. Now are you going to get us ice cream, or do you want to treat your wound and let us get our own?"

"_Dude,_" Andrew whispered, "_these are those FBI vamps who got hit by the cupcake. We've gotta get out of here!_"

"_Maybe they've forgiven us,_" Joe whispered hopefully.

"Don't kill me! I have a job and a home and a girlfriend named Delilah!" the clerk shrieked.

"Okay, whatever," Agent SJ said. "Get outta here. We'll get our own ice cream and leave some money in what's left of the cash register. And we'll do a health inspection while we're here… the employee and a customer are bleeding all over the floor and counter. I give this place an F."

"You guys are nuts!" The dark-haired, bleeding clerk ran out the front door. Pete peeked out from under the table. The VFBI members were all distracted with each other. SJ and AL had begun to scoop ice cream into large cups, and TR watched as JK aimed the gun held in his right hand at what appeared to be a food processor caught on his left hand, causing him to bleed profusely. Apparently, wildly shooting at the kitchen appliance caught on his own arm had been what had caused bullets to ricochet into the ice cream parlor.

"How am I supposed to get it off without shooting it?!" Agent JK complained.

"A sledgehammer, a chainsaw maybe, cut your hand off for all I care!" SJ said. "The fingers will grow back! Just stop wasting ammo!"

"Maybe I like wasting ammo…" JK muttered.

"Whatever. So anyway," SJ settled back into a story he had apparently been telling, "Then I lost my light saber! I loved that light saber! It was purple! There are no other purple light sabers!"

"Whaaatever," AL responded.

"Are there any aliens left at Area 51?" TR asked, fixated on the story.

"No, they all died out. The new ones are at DAMMIT THIS ISN'T U-BET!"

Claire ducked under the table. "_Why are we hiding under the table?_"

"CLAIRE!" Joe hissed. "Where are your mates?"

"Eating outside," She licked her vanilla cone with sprinkles. "They said they wanted to stay outside while it was still nighttime. I do not know why. It's cold outside!"

"It's still winter," Patrick agreed.

"Claire, I have a mission for you!" Joe said.

She gasped and looked happier than an exiled middle schooler who had just made their first friend since elementary school. "A mission?!"

"Yes. See those people in suits? Converse with them. Distract them. We have to get away from them!"

She didn't even answer, but she sprung up from under the table and looked at Agent JK "Mister! Why do you have a kitchen appliance on your arm?!" She looked genuinely concerned.

"It's a long story, really," He said. But then he proceeded to tell a particularly detailed story about a dare, four beers, a flashback, and a melon baller.

Patrick stifled a laugh. "_**What**__ **is **a melon baller_?" he whispered to the others. "_I've never seen one and I keep hearing about them,_"

As the others tried their best to control their laughter, Pete watched the VFBI members, not caring for the idea of laughter at _his_ particular day and age. He watched as Agent SJ handled ice cream matters, Agent AL was keeping herself interested in what JK was saying, and with a cringe Pete realized that what Agent TR was doing was looking around the ice cream shop for general things that interfere with society's well-being. And Claire was supposed to be distracting them, but was too busy flirting with 'ah-door-ah-bull' JK to notice!

DAMN!

Joe was quietly sipping his milkshake right until now. The quiet liquid was replaced with loud foam and chunks of ice cream. "_**SLLLLRRRLRP**_!"

Andy giggled insanely yet silently as Joe finally realized what was wrong with this action and stopped with his mouth full of milkshake. He was too late in stopping for Pete, though. Pete hit him, a little too hard, and Joe coughed and chocolate milkshake came out his nose and mouth, dribbling on his Styrofoam cup, the floor, and Patrick's leg.

Pete and Andy cracked up just as TR noticed them. "HEY!"

"Uhhh…" Joe wiped his chocolate-dripping nose. "Heyyy."

"I know you guys…" TR said accusingly, and the vigilantes winced. He pointed to Patrick and flinched. "YOU'RE the kid who stole my milk money in fifth grade!"

Patrick froze. "…Uhhh, what?"

Pete sniggered. "You got your milk money stolen from _Patrick_?"

Patrick shot Pete a 'thanks-a-lot!' look; Pete shot him a 'you-know-it's-true' look right back.

Agent AL was also staring right at them. "Uh, those aren't the guys who made you as pathetic as you are. Those are the guys who… THREW A CUPCAKE AT OUR VAN!"

Suddenly, all attention was on the vigilantes.

Claire put her hand on her beatless heart and gasped. "Guys? Is that you?" She shook her head in a 'ew-mah-GAWD-what-a-strange-coincidence-I-had-no-idea-you-were-there' sort of way. "What are you DOING? I mean, _ahhb-vee-us-lee_, you have no _reee-zuhn_ to hide or anything, so did you DROP something?" Every syllable was filled with more enthusiasm than the last. Her acting was so poor, that you would almost think she was doing it on purpose to get the VFBI to call them out. But the vigilantes knew she wasn't purposely screwing them over; she was just Claire.

Pete nodded and smiled weakly, picking up a nickel that was fortunately sitting on the ground. "Mmmm-yup. Dropped my lucky nickel."

"And you're _all_ down there looking for it?" Agent SJ had his arms crossed.

"It's quite the nickel," Joe said defensively.

For some reason, Agent JK found this very funny and started to crack up.

But, more fortune came for the vigilantes with SJ's next words. "Well, you better not run away before we have our ice cream!"

"Huh?" I believe Joe spoke for all four of them when he said that.

AL nodded. "The handbook says we have to use up all sixty minutes of our lunch hour. We're only up to forty-eight."

Pete nodded back and forced a smile. "Okay then. We'll just wait under here until you're done. We wouldn't want to, uh, disrespect your authority!" While he was saying this, he pinched Joe's bicep, sending him a silent signal to keep quiet and follow his lead. Joe did the same to Patrick, and Patrick did the same to Andy, who hit him upside the head (a little too hard, knocking his hat off by mistake) for pinching him.

"Is there a problem?" Agent TR tilted his head down to get a closer look.

"No, not here," Pete smiled more, his fangs getting some full exposure they could only get from a smile that they weren't getting lately.

And then they sat for about two minutes, waiting for the VFBI to settle in and turn their collective attention to something else. When they did, Pete slowly scooted back out from under the table and, crouching down as to attract as little attention to himself as possible, began to make his way towards the door. He reached the clean glass door and waited for his friends to catch up.

"_Okay, go!_" Joe urged/whispered.

"_Wait, don't. There's a little bell on the door. It's gonna make noise._" Patrick said.

Pete rolled his eyes grabbed the little silver bell tightly in his fist, as to avoid it making a sound by contact, and then pulled it off, still holding it tightly. He opened the door as quietly as he could and held it open for Joe, Patrick, and Andy. With their luck today, he figured that if they all opened the door to make their way out, one of them would probably get bashed in the nose and shout "OW!"

Once they were all out and the door was safely closed, Pete (still gripping the bell) whipped around and pushed forward with full force, eager to get back to the comfort that he strangely found in the vehicle of his dead allies.

And as luck _would_ have it, he went full steam ahead… into Noodle.

"AIIIEEE!" She shouted as both she and Pete went crashing to the ground, her ice cream cone smeared up on her left arm and his right shoulder.

"Um, sorry, but we're in a hurry-" He stopped speaking when she ran over and gave him a hard kick in the side. "UUUHN!"

"YOU BAD AMERICAN!" She kicked him in the head now, making him cover his face and roll to the side. "BUY ME NEW ONE! NOW!"

"There's no time for that!" Patrick informed her as he grabbed Pete's arm to help him up; Pete shook away and lifted himself up. "Listen, go get Claire! We have to go now!"

"I'm sure she won't mind not saying goodbye. Just give us money for Noodle's new ice cream cone." Braids held out her hand. "We don't have any money, because we didn't take any from your back pocket while you were looking away."

Patrick ignored the way she lied in her usual manner and handed her a couple dollar bills as he continued speaking. "Wait, what? Hurry up!"

"Hurry up what?"

"HUSTLE! We have to go!"

"Bye!" She smiled and waved.

He raised one eyebrow. "Wait. Aren't you coming along?"

She shook her head. "No, thanks. You guys are nice, and half of you are really cute, but you're boring after a while, and you need to shower more regularly." For once, she spoke what was truly on her mind. "Also, word has been going around that you kick puppies."

Patrick gaped. "…WE DON'T…!"

"Right. We know that. Just looks bad, you know?" She waved again. "Bye!"

Patrick nodded and led the others away. As they walked, Pete rubbed his side and thought about how that girl learned to kick so hard, Patrick wondered what the hell just happened, Andy wondered where they were going to go next, and Joe wondered which half of the vigilantes were the cute ones.

"You hear that?" TR said angrily from the doorway, drinking an egg cream. "Those guys are suspected puppy-kickers!"

"Meh," JK said, waving off the idea with a mangled hand that he had removed the food processor from, "I doubt it. Even if they do, I bet they don't even know how to put spin on the kick!"

"Yeah, they… what? What do you mean, sir?"

"You know my name, boy! Call me by it!" JK yelled.

"Agent JK wrote the book on puppy-kicking," SJ said. JK grinned and showed off a thick binder full of paper titled 'If I Kick Puppies, Here's How to Kick Puppies'.

"He hasn't gotten it published yet," AL said, "But he wrote it."

* * *


	11. Stillness

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. **

**Two things.**

**One! This chapter is another half-filler chapter. In it, I have a more-for-fun part that takes too long with the wall (you'll understand me more after you read it). Anyways, I decided to make it into a contest. The person who can tell me the most inside jokes they understand on the wall (by that I mean whoever can tell me the origin of the most people mentioned) get a free preview of the next chapter. Normally I wouldn't do that, but I've been bad about updating, so I figure it's only fair every once in a while to do this kind of thing.**

**But if you want to go for it, it has to be PM, because I'm too paranoid to play by the honor code. Because that's a little more trouble, I don't expect you to do it. Oh, and Jerry Seinfeld, Simon Cowell, and characters from my fic don't count.**

**Two! If you don't get what Joe is doing in the first scene, feel free to tell me and I'll explain it. My cowriter didn't get it.**

* * *

"Damn, I'm hungry. I haven't had anything to eat yet today." Joe stated to Patrick, clearly expecting Patrick to do something about it. 

"That's a good way to ruin your health; make terrible eating patterns." Patrick replied, poring over the crinkled, faded map, his navy blue cap fully shadowing his eyes.

Joe rolled his eyes. _I can't believe he's going to make me say it. _"Patrick, may we please stop somewhere to eat?"

Patrick couldn't resist smiling a bit. "I'lllll consider it,"

"Consider faster."

"Pete?" Patrick called out to Pete, who was driving. "Pull over at the next sign of life."

"Whatever," Pete continued driving. Joe wondered for a minute how he could steer with all that hair in his face and it being 10 P.M., but with Pete he found it better not to ask about that kind of thing. But there was something else Joe wanted to pick at Pete about…

Joe took a seat next to Pete. Since there was no front passenger seat, or any official type of passenger seat at all, he threw a bunch of hard pillows down and sat on them. With all of them stacked up, he was almost as tall as Pete sitting down. "So, Pete. Didja have any of the 'concoction' today?" Joe used air quotes around 'concoction'.

"Yes," Pete didn't even look at Joe. He simply tugged on his hoodie, which had thick black-and-white horizontal stripes, and immediately returned the hand to the wheel.

"It looks so nasty,"

"It is,"

"Can I try it one day?"

"You already asked me. No."

"Why not?" Joe was aware he was being annoying. It was purposeful.

"It… it would be like a chick taking Viagra, dude. I have no idea what that stuff the Dark Priest sets me up with does to humans."

"Fair enough," Joe paused and looked out the windshield. Thick darkness seemed to cover the surrounding area on every side like a heavy blanket made for cold winter nights. The headlights were on, of course, but only seemed to act as something to show just how dark it really was.

After giving the vampire of a minute of peace, Joe spoke up again. "Where's Andy?"

"We're all on one vehicle, Joe; it can't be that hard to find him." Pete snapped, trying to make it clear to Joe that he would make both of them happy by going to look.

Joe ignored this, though, even though he saw it too. "I think he's in his bed, putting new bandages on that bad cut he got when we were training the other day after we ran from the ice cream parlor. It bled a lot for a small cut, didn't it?"

"Mm-hmm," Pete sounded uninterested, but glanced at Joe out of the corner of his eye for a moment before looking back.

"Maybe Andy just bleeds a lot,"

Pete paused before speaking. "…Could be,"

_Score. _"Patrick doesn't so much. Neither do I. Wait. Do I?"

Pete swallowed and didn't say anything.

_Oh yes. _"Do you think there's something wrong with me? I don't bleed heavily…" He furrowed his brow. "Like… a type of cancer?"

Pete rolled his eyes and paused again before speaking. "No, you bleed more than Patrick, it's Andy who…" His facial expression froze and he caught himself mid-sentence.

_Come on. Almost got game, set, and match. Go on, go on. Admit it, fool!_

"We're here," Pete pulled the keys out of ignition and was the first out of the RV.

* * *

"HEY!" Andy shouted. His head was tilted to one side, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing and needed a different angle to be sure he was right. 

The other three arrived almost immediately afterwards and all gazed upon what Andy had discovered.

It was a wall, not much shorter than the average sort of cement wall, but a bit longer. The grayness of the cement was either faded or naturally a light gray. However, little wall was visible among the fine layer of 'WANTED' posters that covered it.

"WHOA!" Joe blurted. "Look at all these people! Does the government seriously pay money for bounty hunting?"

Patrick gaped at the posters. They were yellowed, but not in an 'old-fashioned newspaper' kind of way, nor did they have that type of print. They were yellowed only because they were outside all day and night, every day and night. The font was computer style, and below each photo was a name, description and long number with at least nine digits. Below that was a price.

Patrick stared, in disbelief at all the people, vampires, perfectly alive humans, men, women, younger and older people alike. Some photos didn't look like they were taken in action or anything, more like they were taken from a MySpace page.

"HEY!" This was Joe now.

"What?" All three heads turned to where he was pointing.

"I'M ON THE WALL!" Joe's face and voice were a mixture of shock and happiness. "For ninety thousand dollars! SCORE!"

Andy's mouth dropped open in a smile. "I'm right next to you! We're both ninety thousand!"

Pete nodded. "I'm under you guys."

"ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND? You little butthole!" Joe fake-punched Pete in his bony shoulder.

As they all exchanged high fives and excited words, Patrick's mind raced. Did people know Andy, Joe, and Pete were on the wall? Were these posters for real or was it a hoax? But they looked so real, and there were so many of them… which brought up a whole new line of worries. Had their government become so desperate from this sudden surge of vampiric population in the nation that they were calling on bounty hunters to round them up?

"Looook, Patrick…" Joe sniggered. "You're only _eighty_ thousand!"

"Wait, what?" Patrick's head snapped towards the poster, his voice a mix of shock and disappointment.

"Oh my god it's SOREL!" Andy pointed to another poster about five to the left of Pete. "WHOA! Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. WHOA!"

"What?" Patrick yelled out of annoyance.

"Sorel's SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND! If we kill him, we're set for years!"

"We can't collect on bounties, _we're_ bounties!" Patrick argued.

Andy ignored Patrick. He had moved on. "These guys' names are Dom and Ed… they're on the same poster AND they have separate posters! Ed's at one hundred seventy and Dom's at one hundred sixty thousand… but if you bring 'em both in you get a special deal of four hundred thousand. And they're not even vampires! It says 'heavily armed' and 'prone to reckless use of said weaponry'. Okay."

"This one for 'Monkey D. Luffy' says one hundred million _berries. _BERRIES? What the fuck are berries?" Joe said.

"Does the government even have that many berries?" Andy wondered aloud.

"Maybe it's foreign currency. Look, this one for a Naruto Uzumaki is worth twenty million yen." Patrick pointed out.

"Hey, it's that crazy Vulcan guy! Remember him?" Pete pointed at Vulcan's poster, which went for seventy thousand. The poster was one of the oldest-looking, one of the most frayed and discolored. It also appeared as though someone had slashed it across the middle.

"No no, look at THIS!" Joe believed his find was better than Pete's. "Brandon. Remember him? He was kicking your ass, Pete."

"Until I staked his ass, or didn't you know?!"

"He's got TWO posters. One of him before he was a vampire, going for sixty thousand, and after vampirism, worth seventy-five."

And they continued reading off multiple posters, some posters more intimidating than others.

"This is a 'Tohya Miho' going for nearly three hundred thousand. Ooh, she's cute… darkly cute…"

"Someone called 'The Shadow Syndicate', going for one hundred fifty… he's got military-style weaponry, apparently and… anti-terrorist? Okay."

"Holy crapola, this girl named Tanith is going for like, four hundred thousand! Several accounts of murder."

"Here's some girl named Cassandra, she's kinda cute... a lot of the girls here are. Not a vampire, so that ninety thousand is pretty impressive. She's got a sword and shield, and it says she worships Zeus. Weird."

Pete's eyebrows furrowed. "SIMON COWELL? For five thousand dollars?"

Andy giggled. "Pfft, that's nothing. Jerry Seinfeld for eighty! What's he been _doing_ lately?"

Patrick nodded. "Celebrities do get turned into vampires, too. The only difference between their and Pete's turning is that they get a two-pager article in _Star_ magazine."

Pete snorted. "And I'm no celebrity, that much I know!"

Andy continued. "One 'Massie Block' going for ten thousand… over one hundred accounts of general harassment…"

"Gerard's here!" Joe laughed. "They've got a photo of his wolf form, too. He's here for twenty thou- no, that's crossed out, it's thirty- no, that was crossed out too, it's fifty- no, eighty- Gerard's up to one hundred fifty thousand!"

"Mikey's next to him for seventy. The poster looks new."

"Here are photos of Gabe and Elisa. Wait, let's fix this." Andrew slashed through both posters with his rapier. "There. They were both fifty-five thousand… that pays a lot of food…Hah! They had spelled it 'Eliza'!"

"Someone nicknamed 'The Dark Enforcer' going for fifty thousand…"

"Some deformed-looking dude named Kloof going for three hundred fifty thousand. He looks like he's wearing a metal suit or something. They don't have any reasons why he's up for grabs. They just say he's a swordsman."

"One 'Kamikaze' Kyle's here for one-eighty… survivalist skills, weapon proficiency… Heh heh, photo looks like a stuffed plushie toy, that can't be right."

"A girl named Kali also going for four hundred thousand, like that other girl, and for the same reasons…"

"Hey, do you notice something odd?" Pete asked all three of them.

"What in particular?" Patrick asked back.

"The Baron's not on this wall. Neither is his sister."

"Don't forget, they were 'in' with the police. Like mafia leaders or something." Patrick explained. He scrolled his flashlight further across the wall, his eyes scanning the posters. "Most of the lieutenants were here, though."

Andrew's mouth dropped. "Agh! It's CLAIRE!"

"_Claire_? What for?" Patrick searched for the picture, his voice expressing more worry than curiosity.

Pete rolled his brown eyes. "Patrick, quit being such an overbearing, worrywart older brother type. You're already like that to us."

Patrick opened his mouth to speak, but swallowed and didn't say anything, only stuck his hands in the front pocket of his tan hoodie. It was scary how well they knew each other.

Andrew snickered. "Besides, she's only up for two hundred and fifty dollars. For disturbing the peace! A dozen charges of it, but still…"

"Let's go," Pete turned his back to wall and walked away.

"Wait!" Patrick stopped him. "We need food! That's why we came!"

"Oh yeah… I forgot."

"Just because you don't have to eat… you better not get any more used to not eating!"

"I know, you only remind me to begin developing good eating habits EVERY TIME you mention food."

"Uhhh, problem…" Andy said. He had already made his way to the far end of the wall and was staring behind it, pointing his flashlight ahead, breaking the darkness. "Look!" He said, for what must've been the umpteenth time that evening.

The other three came and stood beside Andy, looking on. The town (if you could call it that now) was completely destroyed and abandoned. No sign of light or movement was apparent. The only things they could see in the dark of night were the outlines of no doubt what once were frequently used buildings.

Patrick sighed. "Let's find food in the next one. This one doesn't seem very safe. We don't what used to be here or what still is."

"Agreed," Joe looked slightly freaked out.

Andy didn't say anything, but looked slightly disappointed at having to wait until they were in the next town over. Pete said nothing too, but he acted as if Patrick had never said a word and started off towards the 'town', predicting that he was going to get some food by picking nonperishables out of dusty, discarded houses.

Patrick's mouth dropped. "PETE! What are you doing?! Are you crazy?! Did you not hear what I said?!"

"Did it have something to do with my eating habits?" Pete called over his shoulder, half-smiling.

Andy laughed and followed Pete, shrugging in a 'what-could-happen' way.. Joe scurried after as well, leaving Patrick alone with two options:

1. Go with them and probably be safe.

2. Stay behind, look that much more cool, and have a ninety percent chance of getting attacked by one or more of the following: Sorel, Gerard, Mikey, other vampires, raccoons, Amy, the VFBI, hungry dogs, ants, bobcats (probably not in the winter, but you never know), vultures, Claire, people Patrick didn't like in middle school, pregnant women, hobos…

"HEY! Guys! Wait!" Patrick waved and ran off towards them.

* * *

"This looks _awful_ familiar!" Jared pulled the sword out of the RV, the exact one he had planted in about a week or so earlier. He pressed a tiny button on the handle, and a blinking red light that just screamed 'tracking device' went out. 

"But they're not inside the RV!" Jared's brother and fellow bounty hunter (named Shannon) called out from inside the RV.

"They must be in town," Another one of the four pointed accusingly at the wall covered in posters. "If there's one behind that pretty wall."

"Fun fact," Shannon began. "Forty percent of all walls are-"

"Then let's go check out the situation," Jared led the way as they stalked off, each armed with a katana. But he paused and glanced at the wall (he didn't even need a flashlight to read in the dark).

"Oh, look. They're on the wall. Isn't that adorable?" He put his hand to his heart, smiled, and shook his head. "Maybe once Sorel is through with them, we can have the heads back to cash in."

"You'll probably have to ask him to leave the faces mostly intact," the fourth one piped up as he strapped leather armlets around his forearms. They had all armed themselves and dressed in light armor and durable clothing.

"Yeah, remind me to do that when I talk to Sorel next."

* * *


	12. Movement of Air

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. **

**Sorry for slow updates.**

* * *

Pete led the way into the first house they could find. The door was leaning off of its hinges, and the inside smelled like dust and mildew. It seemed like it used to be a nice house, a nice two-story one; the couches had ripped leather and the smashed TV was a plasma screen. "I'll look in the cupboard," 

Andy flicked on a light switch, just out of curiosity, and to his surprise, light flooded the room from the ceiling lights. "Hey! Still works."

"Doesn't make anything look any better…" Patrick murmured.

Pete opened a dusty cupboard and immediately found a plethora of heavy cans. He stumbled past the boiled peanuts and canned green beans in 'liquid' and grabbed a can of condensed milk and another of ravioli.

"Uh, I don't eat meat, remember?" Andy pointed to the ravioli. "We already have like, five cans of that stuff."

"Pfft. How much real meat do you think is in this?"

"There's not a lot of clutter on the floor," Joe pointed out. "What do you think they were thinking when they ransacked this house?"

"Who?" Pete asked.

"Dunno. Whoever ransacked it."

"Probably just to take small valuables and smash any too big for them to carry, like the TV."

"WAIT. What was that?" Patrick said loudly.

"Me," Pete said, plunking another can of something.

"No, voices!"

"…_Me_."

"No! Just be quiet for a minute!"

They obeyed, listening to the sounds of the normally silent night. But at the moment, voices drifted over to them from outside.

"Wait. I just caught my name!" Patrick whispered.

Andy looked up. "And mine! And Pete's!"

"And mine?" Joe asked, more hope in his voice than curiosity.

"Oh no! The RV! DUH!" Patrick sounded worried. He went over to a wall to lean against it. "I should've gotten it parked somewhere out of view!"

"Man, quit whining and SHUT UP!" Pete strained to hear the voices, but it wasn't as hard anymore, considering that the voices were coming closer (but really, aren't we all ready for some action again?). Pete knew his comment to Patrick was one of the least comforting things he could have said, and all Patrick probably needed for reassurance was one, maybe two "we'll-be-fine"s, but he really didn't have the patience or experience to be giving those out like gift bags full of designer clothing comps.

The next thing to happen was quite the inciting incident. A skinny, good-looking man with a wave of long black hair carefully removed the door from its hinges, making sure to not do so much as brush dust off of it, then gave it a good hard boot, sending it nearly fifteen feet away. He was accompanied by three other men, one with his brunette hair in short spikes, another with black hair almost as long as the first, and the third with a shorter dark cut. They all had identical black outfits and katanas at their side.

Joe gave each a once-over. "Uh, sorry, is this your house?"

The first turned to the last to enter. "Tomo, field this question,"

'Tomo' nodded. "Not our house."

"And there you have it."

"You're weird. Go away." Pete turned back to the cans, not caring that they had swords, or that standard etiquette for people you don't know does not include insults and giving orders.

"And you're Pete, so we won't be going. At least not yet."

"We'll be going in a little while, though," another added.

"And you'll be coming with us, probably unconscious," Tomo chimed in.

"Fun fact: Our fights last an average of 30 seconds."

"It might take less if you spend less time combing your hair first, dude," Pete said to their leader's glossy black locks. Joe and Andy laughed, while Patrick shot Pete 'why-are-you-pissing-off-armed-scary-people?' look, and Pete just rolled his eyes instead of forcing too much emotion in to a single look.

Without warning, the leader drew his sword in a threatening fashion. "Hi, I'm Jared!"

"I'm Shannon!" The second said, also drawing his sword.

"Fun fact: I'm Tomo!" The third added, doing the same.

"I'm Tim!" The fourth.

Pete narrowed his dark eyes. "Why are you just rattling off your names randomly in some kind of organized pattern… that's not entirely organized? What do you think you're doing, a musical number?" Joe and Andy laughed again, and Patrick's finely polished look of distress gained strength.

They ignored the insults. Even though they were obviously there to fight, for some odd reason, Jared looked determined to make pleasant conversation that didn't result in an insult. "Did you know that altogether we have made two hundred and ninety nine poses with these swords?"

"You'd reach the three-hundred mark if you counted shoving them up your asses," Joe pointed out quietly, making Pete, Andy, Patrick, and Tim laugh.

"Enough of this!" Out of nowhere, Jared charged Pete with his katana out. He tried to make a side slice, but Pete blocked it with the sole of his sneaker. Jared pushed him against the counter, smashing it in half.

"AH! Hey!" Andrew whipped out both rapiers at the same time. "Get away from us!" He thrusted one rapier forward, and a computerized voice in it added, "**You have: 3 new messages.**" "Stupid rapier."

"Dibs on the swordsman!" Tim pulled out a strange-looking weapon; a long metal rod and then a shorter, thinner one attached parallel to it.

"What kind of sword is that?" Andy asked.

"What kind is yours? _Messages_? Is it an iSword or a qSaber or something?"

"Can I take this one?" Tomo pointed to Joe.

Shannon, feeling slightly left out by everyone getting their own special opponent, pouted and turned to Patrick. "I guess that leaves you. You're my victim."

Patrick had regained his state of mind, conquering fear, and stood up, brushing house-dust off of his hoodie. "I don't know if I should be freaked by the content of what you said or insulted by the tone."

----------

"Yike!" Pete narrowly avoided getting sliced across the back by a sword, and barely managed to dodge another high slice as he tried to turn around. He was able to dodge every one of his opponent's moves but it was close each time. Pete only had speed to judge, but at the moment, they seemed to be equals.

"Ack!" Pete ducked, and Jared's sword went through a glass front cupboard. Closer to the ground, he kicked Jared's legs out from under him.

Jared brought Pete down fully on the ground with him, and stabbed his katana at Pete's skull. Of course, Pete moved his head in time, but the result of this was that he was pinned to the ground by the hood of his sweatshirt. IT was pretty far down towards the neck, too; too good of a pin to be coincidence. Jared smiled smugly, confirming that pinning Pete was his intent.

"Uh-oh! No! Dammit!" Pete fumbled with the handle, trying not to get his fingertips all diced up. Also, the sword was at an odd angle for his arms, so getting a good grip was difficult. But snapped back to reality and found a loophole in Jared's plan. "Now you don't have a weapon if you have to use this just to hold me down!"

Jared only continued smiling. He pulled out a pair of gloves from what was probably a compartment in the back of his very thin layer of armor. The gloves were tipped with spikes that made a show of being sharp and shiny, making them look like some sort of medieval torture device.

"Nooo… way…" Pete stared at them. He tried to pull harder on his hood to escape the sword. But this was getting hard for him to do, difficulty increasing with every tug. Due to the placement of the sword being so close to the back of the neckline, pulling any more on the purple hoodie would be pressing on his windpipe, and besides, it was a _really_ good hoodie.

"You don't like them? But the claws are all shiny…"

----------

"EEEEYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Shannon jumped onto a table, and then jumped toward Patrick with his sword above his head. Patrick, surprised, jumped to the side as he pulled out his new stake crossbow.

"Why are you yelling?! And why didn't you just jump at me directly?!"

"I LIKE YELLING AND JUMPING!" Shannon yelled as he jumped at him again. But when he came back down, Patrick gave him a swift kick to the stomach, knocking him back a bit. When he came back up, Patrick had a loaded crossbow an inch from his opponent's nose.

"Wow…" He stared into the point of stake, not fazed by one of the very few things in the world that could kill him. "You are turning out to be a better opponent than I expected."

Patrick's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really? Cool!"

"But I've still had better,"

_THWICK _was the strange, weirdly loud sound of Patrick swiping the tip of the crossbow stake across Shannon's nose.

_CRICK_ was the equally strange, loud sound of Shannon chopping off the pointy tip of the stake with his katana.

When he brought his katana down again, Patrick used the crossbow as a shield, causing a shower of sparks. Shannon swiftly kicked him in the face. Patrick stumbled back, yelping in pain as he grabbed his nose.

"Give up?"

"After one kick? What do you take me for?" Patrick, regaining his balance, was trying to stop the blood flowing out of his nose with his hands, only making them dirty.

The bounty hunter let Patrick straighten himself up only to hold up a small hand grenade.

Patrick gaped. "Wuh… what the…?! WHY A HAND GRENADE?!"

"Why not?"

"Enclosed spaces, MAYBE?!" Patrick gestured to the room in general. Everyone else was noisily battling alongside him downstairs, stumbling in and out of the den and attached kitchen and living room.

"Meh."

"'MEHHH'?!"

"Yup, meh."

----------

"RRR!" Joe tackled Tomo to the ground. Simple, yet effective.

"UWAH!" His opponent shouted in surprise.

They both went hurtling backwards, and before they both completely lost their footing, Joe had turned them both to the side just in time for them to crash into a glass-fronted china cabinet.

Somehow over where his fight was, Pete looked over at the crash. He was awkwardly holding Jared's katana (he obviously has no clue how to hold a sword) and held it up, pointed at Jared's jugular. "What was that? Joe?!"

"Oww-ww!" Joe covered his head with his arms and dropped to the floor. They were covered in a long-sleeved navy tee, but that didn't stop all the shards of glass from getting through.

Tomo let out a long groan of pain as he yanked a piece of red rose-patterned teacup out of his skull. "Damn!"

"OUCH! I instantly regret doing that!" Joe lifted himself up. He was a mess; bloody arms with tiny glass-made cuts and blood dripped down the sides of his face from cuts on the side of his forehead. The cuts were small but many and the stinging pain was great, enough so that Joe considered making more general noises of pain, but decided the element of surprise was on his side if he didn't. So he instead opted for trying to tackle Tomo again, but Tomo staggered away from the attack, due to the unrelated cause of pulling pieces of plate out of his knee.

Tomo gawked at Joe staggering past him. "You would try that again after what happened the first time?" He grinned as he removed the last major piece of porcelain from his neck. "You could almost be one of us." He drew his katana, but as soon as he did he seemed to slide into a stupor, lazily waving the katana at Joe and staggering vaguely toward and to the left of him.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Joe laughed. "Let me guess, brain damage?" Tomo replied with an unfocused grin, but then he dashed forward with a sudden burst of unreal speed, slashing a shallow cut in Joe's side. "CRAP!" Joe grabbed his bleeding side and looked over his shoulder at the vampiric bounty hunter. Tomo still hadn't turned back toward Joe, and was staggering drunkenly again. Suddenly, Tomo shouted and sped backward, flashing his katana back so it would stab Joe in the spine. However, Joe was ready, and he leapt away and kicked Tomo in the head. Tomo fell to one knee, his head down. "Ha!" Joe laughed. "Nice trick, but how long do you expect it to work?"

Tomo looked up at Joe, his eyes not quite focusing and a bit of blood dribbling down his chin. "It works long enough to kill… 77 percent of the time." He dashed forward from his crouching position. Joe jumped back and landed on a card table, but Tomo continued his dash and sliced the front two legs of the table. The table fell forward, and so did Joe… right into Tomo's waiting grip, throat-first. Tomo lifted Joe in a chokehold, and held back his sword. "After you, it'll be 84 percent."

Joe slammed a rib-crushing kick into Tomo's chest, causing the swordsman to stumble back and release him. Joe backflipped and landed on the now-diagonal surface of the card table, pushed off, and leapt toward Tomo in a karate kick just as he began to regain his balance. "Here's a tip… percentages won't get you far in a fight!" Joe slammed his foot into Tomo's face, sending him back into a full-length mirror. Joe regained his footing, not caring whose bad luck it was, and kicked out at Tomo's face again. Tomo grabbed Joe's foot, twisted it, and threw Joe across the room and onto the kitchen counter. "I feel like meat or something and I'm about to go into a stew…"

----------

Andy thrust one rapier toward his opponent; when he dodged, he shot out the other. Neither hit Tim.

Andy decided that the five minutes or so he had taken just general fighting-style milling around was getting boring.

It was time for a hyper-speed mental Q & A. Patrick always told the others that they sometimes have to ask themselves what their abilities limited them to do, what they could do about any current situation, what the outcome would be, and all sorts of other smart-sounding, Patrick-related crap that the other three had usually stopped paying to attention to what he was saying by then anyway.

_Question: Why is this taking so long?_

_Answer: He's good._

_Question: So how do we get ourselves out of this stupid fight and win?_

_Answer: Let's switch opponents with the others! Yeah, that makes sense!_

Andy, satisfied with the good idea, caught sight of the nearest small battle: Joe's.

He jumped to Tim's side and tried to slice him with the fastest blows he could give, forcing his opponent to back up just to dodge. Finally, when he had him at a precise spot, he kicked him and Tim went falling backwards into Joe. They both stumbled onto a dusty end table and white linen-shaded lamp, breaking them both.

"Uhn!" Joe grunted. "ANDY!" he managed to yell under Tim's weight, without having once seen Andy. With that, he kicked Tim in the side, who rolled away from Joe.

Tim gave Joe a dirty look. "Don't KICK-" (kick to Joe's leg) "-me! It's his fault!" He pointed at Andy.

Andy sliced off the tip of his finger with the rapier in his right hand.

"AAAAAGH!" He waved his finger, accompanied by a rush of blood, around as if he won a prize in a spelling bee (but with a look of pain instead of triumph).

A few dark droplets landed on Tomo's face. "HEY! Why'd you do that? Do you KNOW how many Americans have an STD transferable through body fluids?!"

"AAAGH _YES I DO!_"

Joe's tone was quieter when he got up and faced Andy (despite the fact that he was a few inches taller). "Dude, what are you doing?! My guy is tough!"

"So? Mine is, too!"

"So WHY are you making him fight ME, TOO?! It still doesn't make any sense!"

"Wait- I have a plan. Watch this." Andy tossed one of his rapiers across the room, nearly grazing Patrick's fighter and embedding the sword into some sort of wood beam attached to the ceiling and floor (it snapped in half despite being ten inches thick, probably weakened from the old, moldy house). Shannon turned and stared at it, as if wondering if his hand grenades suddenly had rapiers attached to them.

Patrick turned. "Andy!" he mouthed silently.

"I have a plan! Keep fighting! Attract Pete's attention!" Andy imitated his mouthing, pointing at Pete for the last part. Jared had somehow shoved Pete into the refrigerator and was trying to shut it on him (with Pete, not an easy task).

Patrick stood with a blank look on his face. He wasn't that good at reading lips and Andy spoke fast. _I gave flan? Beep… something that starts with an 'f'? Erect Pete's detention?_

But Patrick didn't need to figure it out. Jared had realized that everyone was fighting with everyone else except him. And that was enough to get him to abandon Pete for the sake of being involved. Jared jumped off the kitchen counter and directly on to Patrick, bringing them both immediately to the floor.

"What ARE you DOING?!" Pete shouted. He swiftly darted over the counter and yanked Jared off Patrick by grabbing his shoulders.

"What are _you_ doing? Stop _groping _him!" Shannon lunged for Pete and had him against the wall in an instant. He threw him against the wall with enough force that he broke another wooden beam like the one Andy's rapier broke, but that one was nearly in the center of the room.

"I wasn't groping him, GET OFF OF ME!"

Joe looked over at the fight, increasing in noise level, and noticed Patrick lifting himself up, dazed after being attacked out of the blue and then ignored. He also noticed Pete, who was pinned with his flailing arms against the wall and Jared lunging towards him, sword out.

"Hey!" Joe jumped over the destroyed table from his scuffle with Tomo and tripped Jared, who landed on Shannon, freeing Pete. "No two-against-ones!"

Tim threw an empty, heavy, wooden laundry basket at Joe, who kicked it to knock it away. It went flying across the room into yet another old, ugly, weak wood beam. It snapped (it was a bad day for wooden beams). "Two against one is only as bad as _tripping_ someone after attacking them _from behind!_"

"You just did the same!" Andy shouted at him.

"HE WAS WATCHING ME!"

"NO, HE WASN'T!" Pete jumped over Jared and Shannon, who were getting into an argument of their own.

"Why did you fall on to me? I had him pinned! You could've knocked him out!" Shannon said.

"How I was supposed to know that some guy would just come and stick his foot out in front of me?!" Jared shouted.

For some reason of his own, in a quick movement, Andy shoved Tim (still bleeding from his finger) into Jared and Shannon. Tim broke up their little argument, only to get himself hit in the head by Shannon.

While they yelled at each other, Pete suddenly reached across and pointed at Jared's neck. "Hey, sorry for interrupting. What's that?" It was a small glass vial full of what looked like blood.

The argument was silenced. Jared held it up for Pete to see closer. "It's virgin blood. How awesome is that?"

Pete smirked. "It really is _awesome_," Patrick was whispering something to Andy while pointing to Tim. Pete waved to get his attention. "Hey, 'Trick!"

"What?" Besides the talking, an eerie quiet hung over the room.

"He has a necklace full of VIRGIN BLOOD!"

Patrick knit his thin eyebrows in confusion for a quick second, wondering what this had to do with him. But then it was as if someone had plugged in a light bulb behind his eyes. "Ohhh. Cool. About how much does he have, out of curiosity?"

Jared answered without missing a beat. "I would say anywhere between fifty to seventy-five milliliters."

"Okay…" Pete stood, still. Then lunged forward and yanked the necklace off of Jared's neck, knowing enough to run across the living room afterwards.

"HEY!" Jared accidentally hit Tim in the eye as he got up.

"_ACK!_ JARED!" He punched Jared in the stomach, knocking him to the side.

Tomo finally stepped in. "Uh, guys?! Forgetting something?!" He was referring to the mission.

A brawl that may as well have been in a bar broke out between the bounty hunters. Pete watched, off to the side, clutching an ingredient to his dear cure. He was smiling, showing just a bit of fang, at the whole scene. Andy and Joe walked over to Pete just as Patrick crawled out from the other side of the tussle and stumbled over to Andy and Joe.

Joe's mouth dropped. "What the hell were you DOING? Are you crazy?!"

Just as Patrick opened his mouth to answer, putting something in his pocket, a thunder-loud creak erupted in the whole house. Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andy froze and looked up at the ceiling with curious looks, but Jared, Shannon, Tomo, and Tim were too busy throwing punches to even notice.

"Uh…" Patrick looked up at the ceiling as a stream of dust leaked down.

"Now would be a good time to leave!" Joe ran out, and the others followed.

------

Andy was speechless as they watched the house collapse on the bounty hunters. He hadn't realized TRULY how dusty it was until the cloud that seemed to come up from the ruin was gray. He saw this a few seconds late, though, as he shielded his glasses from the dirt. Upon taking his hand away, he looked at Pete (the only one next to him) and saw that he wasn't even blinking much, hands on his hips as if waiting for the house to fall was making him late for some sort of important appointment.

Immediately after it cleared, Pete turned on his heels. "Let's get going," The others followed without protest.

After walking for only about ten seconds, Patrick stopped short and hit his forehead with his palm, knocking his navy cap back a bit. "UGH! The food! I totally forgot!"

"Don't fret; I've got it!" Andy was smiling, and, Patrick realized for he first time, had his hands full of a can-filled plastic bag. The weight of the cans was stretching the bag, and it looked near ripping.

Patrick smiled back, almost at a loss for words. "… oh my GOD! You ARE fast! How the hell did you…?!"

Andy shrugged. "Didn't take that long,"

"And look!" Pete held up the glass, blood-filled, robbed pendant. "I got the virgin blood for the cure!"

"Great!" Andy showed enthusiasm.

Patrick nodded, and it came as a small surprise to Andy that he didn't then rattle off the other ingredients they still needed. He probably didn't remember. But that was okay; Andy liked the occasional reminder that Patrick didn't know everything. "And I got this," Patrick held up a small test tube also full of blood. "The only other thing I remembered from the list that we didn't have was the blood of five vampires. I also remembered that we predicted that you and the Dark Priest wouldn't count, since you're taking the cure, so we decided to get five other vampires' blood." His eager grin faded. "But this is the only one we have. We need more. And fast."

Joe ignored the last part of what he said. "So, that's what you were doing at the bottom of that dog pile. Getting blood!"

Patrick nodded again. "Maybe next time we tussle with those VFBI – if there is a next time – we can get some from them."

"Yeah!" Joe paused. "Hey, wait. Andy rescued food…"

Andy wiggled the bag.

"Patrick got vampire blood…"

Patrick raised an eyebrow, wondering where Joe was going with this.

"And Pete got the virgin blood…"

"What's your point?" Pete crossed his arms.

"What can I do to help us out?!" Joe stomped his foot in frustration.

"You can shave your beard next time we get to town. There's something nesting in it."

* * *


	13. Broken Blades

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. Good DAY, sir!!!**

**Pssst. Guess what. That's not really Patrick's e-mail address. I made it up.

* * *

**

"I love the angry look in your eyes," Amy cooed to Sorel. "It's so adorable."

"Adorable?" Sorel grimaced, making it look like some sort of demented smile. "And tell me… what is _adorable_ about it?"

Gerard stood off the side, arms crossed as he kept his eyes on the scene, seeming to have totally forgotten being called a yes-man. That or he was just mature enough to decide to move on, which is a possibility with him. Mikey was doing the same, but he was mostly focused on Amy. He looked at her with interest and a maybe a spark of admiration.

"It's so cute because it seems like just yesterday you were completely unable to defeat me when I would come over to one of my brother's mansions to make sure his gang wasn't falling apart. Oh, how I laughed at the hilarity of it all!" She covered her mouth and giggled at the memory. "Spanking you around those training rooms… which I adored, by the way… fine rooms for training, really, I could see why he picked them for that purpose… much as he didn't know how to pick out a rug he knew exactly what do with his rooms…"

Sorel swallowed hard and his scowl deepened. "It wasn't ANY fun for me! Do you KNOW what the punishment was for being defeated by you?!"

"I'm certain it would have something to do with coals."

Just as Sorel looked about ready to scream at her, when he opened his mouth he paused and calmed down for a moment. "Well… close… BUT NO! IT WAS THE BRANDS!"

Gerard bit his lip (not with his fangs; it would bleed) before speaking up. "I thought the brands were for losing in a fight against a lieutenant," The punishment he spoke of was more like a cruel trick; the lieutenants were such a high class because they were supposed to be the best The Baron could get out of the Dandies. Therefore, challenging them seemed like a one-way ticket to the torture chambers.

Sorel nodded to Gerard. "That was AFTER The Baron buried her alive."

Amy turned her attention to Gerard. "You seem to know a fair amount about this. So can you tell me what the punishment was for challenging the Big Bad Barony himself?"

Gerard held her gaze. "Well… laying hands on him would get you as many days in the boiler room for as many times you hit him…" He paused in thought, then grimaced, similar to the way Sorel did. "Wow, it's a good thing for that Pete guy that he didn't join. That would've _sucked_."

Sorel snickered at the thought.

Amy continued quizzing Gerard on something he probably never thought he'd be given a pop quiz on. "And what was the punishment for stealing?"

"I know this one!" Mikey exclaimed happily. "He'll chop off your hand and you'll have still have to work as hard while it grows back!"

"What about if you play the oboe?"

"Three days of Chinese water torture," Gerard said without missing a beat.

"What about-" Amy was interrupted as Sorel's sword went flying her way. But she put one of her trademark shields up just in time. "Oh! Getting me to talk a lot so I get distracted? Sneaky, deary, very sneaky. But you're going to have to do a lot better than that." She plucked the sword out of the shield, gave it a once-over, mumbled "Shiny," and tossed it aside. "Surely you don't need pretty little sword tricks to defeat me?"

"I most certainly do not," Sorel smiled sinisterly.

She turned around and was delighted to see a fair size tree. With a swift, hard whip of her dark energy, she knocked it down. "Tell me, Sorel. How has life been? What have you been doing with yourself?" she asked him as she began slicing the branches off.

He opened up a metal box attached to his chopper and pulled out a serrated kitchen knife. This box should have probably been used for food or medical supplies, but come on, be realistic. "I'm fine. I used to have a very nice spread of vampires by my side. We were such a nice little group. But that little _boy band_ got rid of almost all of them and sent most of what was left running in soiled panties." On that note, he charged her.

"Oh, that Pete fellow?" She giggled. When Sorel reached her and swung the knife, she used another shield, but a small one. "A whole gang's worth? Maybe you just didn't train them right?"

He swung for her neck, but she created a black glove-like cover on her hand and grabbed the knife. "MOST of those men were formerly your brother's!" Sorel growled. "Besides, why are you here anyway, all hot and bothered by him? Him and his little tagalongs eventually spank you and sent you crawling away with your tail between your legs?"

When Sorel broke free and jumped away, she formed the fingers of her weird energy glove into claws. "Didn't we already go through this? Did we? Wait, I don't- oh, never mind…"

"You always were the ditzy one."

"Quiet, I'm trying to think! Anyway, the point is, no, I traumatized him, just like I did a few weeks ago."

Sorel darted backwards to get to the box of tricks again, tossing the serrated knife at Amy absentmindedly as he pulled out a cheese grater. "Wait, a few weeks ago? This is news to me."

"Yeah, I was traveling through that haggard old town Billy had such an infatuation for and I saw him there and decided to mess with him. Is that silver?" She pointed to the discarded knife.

"Yes. Most of what I have is. So you just mess with whoever you see?" He charged her again, cheese grater in one hand and random carving knife in the other.

She formed the same claw-like mutated glove over her other hand and met them with Sorel's weapons so they were face-to-face. "No. Though the idea brings me pleasure, I simply don't ever seem to have the time. That's the trouble with this country, rush, rush, rush-"

"Don't go off topic again!"

"Sorry. Anyway, my story goes like this…" Even though she spoke quickly, it was still odd that she fancied her and her ex-boyfriend with their hands locked and equipped with dangerous, sharp weapons to be a good time to tell a story. "I was walking by in that ghastly little wooded area, planning to visit my brother, in fact, within that week or two of my sojourn. And I hear a din, and peek out between some trees. And this young man I see on the ground, looking quite sick or injured, goes nearly FLYING past! When he lands, I realize he is bleeding heavily from the mouth and an open wound (which isn't really that important, it's just rather interesting) and that he is the boy my brother was planning on making his apprentice!" She paused when Sorel shoved her backwards. He charged her again, only to meet with yet another black shield. She opened up a little hole in it to scowl at Sorel.

He looked sheepish, but wasn't willing to stop pushing. "My bad, do continue."

"And I used the newly mastered _illusion_ part of my power, which I was planning on flaunting in front of my brother, to create an almost silhouette like copy of my brother, The Baron! And I teased that Peter fellow with it. Oh, the look on his face…!" She covered her mouth and giggled at the thought.

Sorel smiled. "Well, that's nice, but how did you know that Peter was-"

"Connections," She replied. Amy and Sorel backed away from each other. "I can't reveal though. Sources are sacred. Why, the last time I did that, I-" Sorel threw the original serrated knife at her; at the last fraction of a second she created a shield. With an ear-hurting metallic _pang_ it bounced off. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF SILVER RAIN WAS THAT?!" She fanned her milk-white face with her hands as if a footless, rabid sewer rat was just tossed at her face.

The knife ricocheted right off the shield, away from Amy and Sorel and straight at Gerard's face.

Before Gerard had time to do anything but blink in surprise, Mikey grabbed his jacket and yanked him out of the way in the nick of time. Gerard just looked at him in surprise. Mikey met him with an equally shocked look for a few seconds before saying, "I never understood why in movies they push the person out of the way only to get hit themselves when they could just as easily yank."

Gerard nodded. "I do SO owe you,"

"Damn straight," Mikey smiled, obviously already knowing what to do with his I.O.U.

Gerard pretended to have not seen that and called out to Sorel. "Sir, can we join in now?"

"Well, normally I would say butt out, but you got attacked so it's your prerogative,"

"Should I use my new weapon?" A childlike look of enthusiasm danced across Mikey's eyes.

"Save it," Gerard answered. "You may need it later."

"Hey!" Amy said. "Three against one, Sorel? I wouldn't think you need help."

"I don't need it. I didn't ask for it. But it's not fair for at least Gerard to be prevented from attacking you; you're the one who threw a knife at his face." Sorel reached toward his motorcycle, grabbed a brown bottle of beer and took a swig.

"I didn't throw it, you-"

"I don't care!"

"You have no manners!" She put her hands on her hips. A black sheet of vibrating energy swept up around her feet and began to come over her body. "I'm leaving until you learn some manners. THEN you can show me your skills." When it covered her, it was still for a minute then slithered lightning-fast across the nearby trees and disappeared.

"Never mind," Sorel shouted to his soldiers, turning his attention to his beer.

"What do you want us to do?" Gerard asked.

"Happy hour in a minute, I'm gonna take a leak," He walked over to some trees.

When he was a good enough distance away not to hear, Mikey turned to Gerard and clasped his hands together like he was begging for his life (and seemed to think he was). "Okay. I.O.U. I'm taking it now." He whispered, but loudly.

"What?"

"Let's leave Sorel alone. Now. We don't have to take the motorcycles. Let's just run for it."

"No,"

"What do you mean NO? You owe me!" Mikey resisted the urge to stomp his foot.

Gerard glanced to Sorel's direction. "Not now. I tell you when I think it's safe. But just running away like a couple of ostriches is NOT a safe way to do it."

Mikey put on a stern face. It would have been more serious looking if he wasn't wearing beat-up tight black clothing and a chain as a belt; he looked fine by normal standards, but near Gerard and Sorel he looked a bit like he was trying too hard to look tough. "I saved your face. Literally. You owe me. And I this could save our lives."

"Too bad," Gerard picked up a bottle of beer near Sorel's chopper. "I'm your older brother. And I'm stronger. And I say no."

His mouth dropped, then he sulked. Taking a seat on his chopper. "I can't believe you just played the older brother card."

"Always hidden in my back pocket."

----------

To: 555bedussey

Subject: Found this in your wallet!!!

HEY MISTER PATRICK! ☺☺ ☺That's your name, right?? Guess who it is! (don't read more till you guess, kay?) It's Claire!!! Yeah I found your email address in your wallet! I'm so used to chatting with my friends and I'm trying to type with sentences and stuff but I'm not all that good at it, kay? I'm so used to texting. But I thought you would like that.

Anways, Pattycakes (your friend Joe said you love being called that ☺), I'm sending this to let you know that I saw your faces on a wall thingy a day after we parted ways (good literary term huh???) and you were all up for lotsa money. There was this guy there and in big sunglasses and he was talking to some guys in suits and he pointed to your faces and said "I'll get those heads" and they said "We hate em too" and then they all talked about how dead you and Joe and PeterPeterPumpkinEater (Joe said he loved being called that too) and Vegan Boy (Joe's really good with nickname ideas!!!) are.

Guess where I'm writing from!!! Did you guess yet? I stole a guy's laptop yesterday and I'm in one of those CYBERCAFES!!!!!! These are so cool!!!!! ☺ Plus I hope you don't mind, we borrowed about five hundred dollars or so from you. These lattes are expensive!!! But we'll pay you back very soon, don't worry, this wallet Braids just told this nice young cute guy she didn't have has SO MUCH!!!!!!

Byebye!! I'll write more soon!!

Love♥,

Claire ☺♥♀

* * *


	14. Awkward

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. **

**Hello! Sorry for slow updates. Again.**

**In this chapter there's a flashback with The Baron, for all you Billy Baron fans (you know who you are)! For anyone who cares (should you exist), I was him for Halloween. Tell me in your reviews what you were for Halloween (and yes, this is an attempt to reach out to you beyond the boundaries of discussing this fic).**

* * *

Amy sat alone in a café. She had stopped her mysterious movement outside this random city right before sunrise and had stayed in that poor little small town café then entire day. The employees had noticed her being a vampire and tried to ignore her, pretending not to notice her just sitting there for twelve hours straight, having only ordered one cappuccino.

She decided to eavesdrop on a conversation between a young clerk who had been there for a couple hours and the store manager, who had just walked in.

"Um, sir, can I leave early? Please?"

"Your shift isn't anywhere near over! Not yet."

"Please? Look, I just, I, um… need… to study."

"Your midterms aren't for weeks."

"I'll work overtime all week. I just… um… uh…"

Someone came to sit over at her booth. He was a decently sized young man with short cut hair, a black sleeveless shirt, and sunglasses. "Hi."

"Hi." She smiled.

"You're a vampire."

"You're quite the observer."

"And I know who you are."

She looked him over again. "Do you seriously I think would know _you_?"

He continued. He may have heard that kind of insult before. "My name is Shadows. I'm a bounty hunter. And you go by 'Amy'. You're the only sibling of The Baron."

"I'd like to think I've a better name for myself than that!" She peeked under the table and sneered at his dirty boots and jeans, seated across from her black ballet shoes with shiny black ribbons wrapping up around her legs. They stopped at her knee length black billowing skirt and sleeved red corset top.

"You have," He showed her a copy of a 'Wanted' poster with her face and name on it. The bounty on the poster would allow anybody who claimed it to take a bath of Benjamins.

"That came out well!" She smiled back at herself. "That'll show Billy Boy who the photogenic one is." She proudly flipped her thick black hair.

Continuing to ignore her words as if she had no mouth, he pointed at the price. "They're not fucking around. This price-"

"Language!"

"-Is jacked up above Sorel's price. This is your first poster. It was printed just today. The authorities got word that The Baron is dead after all this time. Now that he's gone, they're wasting no time in keeping your face off the wall." He rolled up her poster and put it in his pocket. "You were too foolish and proud to bother getting yourself associated with the feds like The Baron did. And you're paying for it now."

"It sounds more like the feds are," She snickered at her own joke. "And don't kid yourself; Bills has just as much pride as I do. He's just better at networking and threatening. So what's your point? Why are you here?"

"I'm here to take your head."

She cracked up. "Ohhh wow. Oh boy. That's just- oh, are you trying to be serious?"

He had a stake in his hand. "Damn straight."

She reached out toward the stake, grabbed it, and used a small thread-like bit of her powers to snap it in two. Then she held up a belt with stakes hanging off of every inch of it. A grin broke out across her face. "This is usually the part where people start screaming."

He remained totally calm. "Hey. You got me. I admit it. I've learned not to let a couple of mistakes get to me. Lose a partner or a toe here and there, maybe get your eyebrows burned off. All that matters is that I win the big one in the end."

She got up to leave, still inspecting his Belt O' Stakes. "I like your attitude. Enough to leave you alive this time." She opened the door and left, sending a collective sigh of relief sweeping across the employees behind the counter. And when Shadows slowly lifted himself and up and followed her, she was gone by the time he got outside.

----------

_The Baron's tea was sweetened with one lump of sugar and half of the drink being made up blood, the latter being sweeter than the sugar, of course. Even sweeter than that, however, was the feeling of success in the first couple steps of his plan._

_"You certainly don't like to wait, do you, Peter?"_

_He was grinning at the small-framed young man who stood in front of his favorite tea table: the black lacquered wood one with the thin, curved base and floral-engraved top. It wasn't meant for tea, disappointingly enough, but it was cute. It matched the chaise and wardrobe. So it had that going for it._

_"My name is _Pete_," He bit his lip with his newly acquired fangs. VERY newly acquired in fact. This was apparent in that his lip bled upon his tensed biting, him not being used to the fangs._

_"And why are you here, lad?" The Baron stood up from the table and straightened out his tight, highly formal tan suit and fur scarf (real fur, obviously). "To ask questions, I predict." He pulled up a chair similar to his. "Have a seat."_

_Pete didn't take the seat and didn't even verbally refuse. "WHY did you… turn… me?" His speech was broken. Either Pete didn't quite know how to word it in the proper fashion or refused to say it._

_"I'll answer all your questions if you'll answer mine… and if you'll be kind enough to take a seat. You must be tired. Besides, it'll make both of us more comfortable." He grinned and gestured again. "Go on. Sit."_

_His last word had a note of finality and Pete bared his teeth in a bitter scowl as he yanked his seat out and sat down. He refused to look up at The Baron and looked down, burying his face in his old-looking, tight green jacket and red-and-black striped tee. "I need to know why you did this. To me. Why me? Why couldn't you have just sucked my blood and moved on?" He couldn't hold himself back any longer. "Causing physical pain just isn't enough for you? You need to screw up entire lives at the same time?"_

_"Alright, still. I'll tell you if you settle down." He waited for Pete to gather himself and look the senior vampire in the eye. "You're not one to beat around the bush, are you? It must not be twenty-four hours since your rebirth yet." He sipped the tea and paused before speaking up again. "I turned you for quite a few small reasons. I don't want my kind to die out. And I did you a favor by giving you this; you should be thanking me, not complaining. Besides, you have a certain I-don't-know-what about you that I just find so endearing. But my most important reason is that I won't be on top forever. I will lose this position on my empire, and someone's going to have to take over. My lieutenants have skill, but I don't assign the position of lieutenant to someone in my group who I actually think is 'management material'. It'll go to their heads."_

_"But why did you have to do it-"_

_"Ah ah ah!" The Baron held up his finger. "Now answer my question. When I fed off of you, I could smell certain other people's scents on you. Now you stink of those ratty punks in its place. And you've come to me afterwards. Do those back at home not accept the new you?" His voice was one of sympathy, though Pete couldn't tell how much he was being mocked._

_He shook with suppressed emotions that he refused to let come to the surface. "But… what if I… go after them?" _

_"Well, you should. They should try wearing turtlenecks if they want to continue living with a vampire. It's just selfish to expect you not to feel the lust because you're a friend. Why, it doesn't make any sense, does it? What made them react in such a way that you would want to stay with whom you show so much scorn?"_

_"I'm NOT STAYING WITH YOU!" Pete let his voice rise. "I had to leave the other three, I didn't even stay to see how they would react, because… because…" He faced difficulty forming the words and had to take a few seconds. "I can't put them at risk like that. When…when I woke up… Patrick was standing over me and I saw Patrick- no, the point is I DIDN'T see Patrick. I saw blood." He was so distressed he didn't seem to notice he just offered Patrick's name to the enemy._

_"Is that all you need to hear? And you can cry, boy, I don't care."_

_"No way," Pete was completely collected after hearing that. "You know what? I don't know why I bothered to come. You're a bastard. I'm leaving." _

_Before he could rise, The Baron gestured again. "Oh no, I wouldn't think of having you leave yet. Please stay. You have to feed and have a little rest or you'll break down. Have some tea."_

_Pete was silent and stared at the tea with a hatred unseen as far as towards tea went. _

_"I have cream and sugar,"_

_Silence._

_"It's still hoooot…" The Baron sang._

_Silence._

_"If you mix it with blood it takes the tang out of the first feed,"_

_Upon hearing there was blood in it, Pete whipped his arm across the table in a quick movement and sent three white teacups and a metal kettle crashing against the wall, leaving ugly reddish-brown stains. The Baron looked at it, his face not yet expressing anger, only as if he was thinking, "Oh, that's too bad."_

_Pete jumped up and back, knocking the chair back and almost tripping over it. "What do you mean FEED? I don't need to feed! You're all monsters! I'm NOT like you! I have-" Pete's speech was interrupted. The Baron stood up and grabbed Pete's throat in one gloved hand. _

_The Baron spoke to Pete as he struggled and panicked. "Whatever you call us, you must acknowledge that you're insulting yourself at the same time now. Whether you like it or not, you can't run from your fate any longer. And you certainly can't run from me." He tossed Pete on the floor. Even if The Baron didn't know him, a dead giveaway to Pete being an immature vampire would've been his reaction to being choked. Even a less experienced vampire knows that breathing is not a necessity in the afterlife. Almost all vampires continue to do it when they can only because it's more comfortable to do so, or out of force of habit._

_"Now, since you'll be staying for the night, you'll need a place to nap." The Baron didn't bother asking Pete what his preference was as far as staying the night. "Go out the door, into the hall, first door on your left. Ask for Sorel, he knows what to do."_

_As a very dazed, confused, and defeated Pete left, The Baron picked up the plate for his tea and put it by the door for a servant to pick it up. He knew tonight would be a test for Pete. If he were to stay and be back the next day, then his fate would be sealed: He was a Dandy immediately and could start further training as soon as possible. But if he's to escape to go back to his friends, then The Baron knew he would still eventually be a Dandy, it would just take a little more work._

----------

"Ah!" Pete awoke with a start, hot with fear and the lingering feeling of an invasion of his territory. As he worked to catch his breath in the darkness, he grabbed his T-shirt off the table directly next to him and pulled it on with shaking hands. What was left of the comforter he had already thrown off after his abrupt wake fell off of the small couch like a clump snow falling lazily from a branch. Then Pete glanced outside, in the thin strip of light between the heavy blinds, being careful not to get in the way of the sunlight, and saw a thin sheet of ice covering the window, reminding him of the late winter weather and of how cold he was.

In a move more caused by his subconscious, Pete leaned forward from his seat to peek at where his friends were sleeping to make sure they were still there. Heaving a sigh of relief after finally catching his breath, he flopped back onto the makeshift bed. It had been a while since he had any nightmares with The Baron involved. Lately, they had been infected with images of Sorel, Amy, and himself hurting or killing the other vigilantes.

He briefly let his forearm sit in the beam of sunlight and waited to see how long until the slightly painful tingling became a harsh burning sensation that he had to move his arm out of. Pete sat on his messed up oversized quilt until he heard the "_Sshhff sshhff tmp_" of someone getting up, then more noises of them pulling clothes on. Having no desire to talk about why he was up, the vampire grabbed his comforter and rolled up himself up inside it until no part of his body, not a single lock of hair, was visible.

Patrick laughed. "You look like sushi,"

"How did you know I was up?" Pete only uncovered his mouth.

"I didn't, really. I just guessed. You're a total insomniac. But other than that, I guess I was just talking to myself."

"What? Again?" Pete teased. "I think you need a little _help_."

Patrick laughed again. "Damn, it's cold!" He pulled a map out from near the driver's seat. "Now, let's get this show on the road. We still need Redwood leaves more than anything."

"Buy them online," Pete totally uncovered himself and tossed the comforter to the side. He looked at the small TV set on the table and grabbed the remote, not waiting for the screen to fully gain its color before flipping channels. He turned it on to an old rerun of _Seinfeld_.

"How would we get them delivered?"

"Pay a little more for the fast shipping and we'll set up camp somewhere."

"Where would we set up camp?"

"How about here?"

"Do they deliver here?"

"Who cares?" Pete turned his attention back to the TV.

Patrick, seemingly satisfied with this slightly bizarre reasoning, tossed the map to the side. "Whoa, I woke up at like, the perfect time. The sun is just now setting."

Pete realized he should be a little freaked out that this was now considered the perfect time to wake up amongst him and his crew since they had changed their biological schedules to better fit his. Pete made a mental note to add that to the list of things to thank them for once he got the cure, but for now he flipped the channel. As Patrick made coffee, Pete stared at an old _CSI: Miami_ rerun, made a face, and changed the channel. After finding nothing, he flicked off the TV and sat in overly acted disappointment. He looked up and caught a dim reflection in the black TV screen, not of himself, but of the couch behind him.

Not even in a TV screen.

But it's not like this was all that bad. Pete knew what he looked like by now anyway. Pale skin, dark eyes and hair and a pair of glistening fangs that his fingers reached toward under his lip in a nervous subliminal move.

Normally you would think one would follow the stereotypical nervous habits. In his life, Pete had worked through the whole list, his mind subconsciously putting him into a habit then pushing him out once it realized it did nothing to bring an end to the tension in his body. Biting his nails never worked for Pete, and his fangs got in the way nowadays. Tugging on his hair was boring, and his hair wasn't as long as Andy's or Patrick's anyway. Drumming his fingers on a surface only pissed other people off, as did cracking his knuckles. Picking at his cuticles worked about as well as biting his nails.

He even tried one of the most desperate moves to release emotion, what he had read about before: cutting. But he was a vampire; it healed right back up anyway. Besides, what they said online was totally untrue… it didn't help, it made it worse! It _hurt_, don't need Sherlock to figure _that_ one out! So screw that.

His signature nervous habit was tugging on his fangs.

And he was tugging so much, he was about to face the same thing that happens to those who tug their hair so much they pull out a few strands, who pick their cuticles so much the skin around the nail becomes pink and raw, and one who cuts does it so much that one day they accidentally hit an important vein.

With one final tug, his left fang snapped out of the gum.

Pete closed his mouth to stop the rush of blood and shoved his fang under his pillow (please spare him your tooth fairy jokes) before Patrick could see.

"Want coffee?"

Pete nodded his head.

"Okay. Black?"

Another nod.

"Here," Patrick handed it to him. "Oh, and Pete, a couple things?"

Yet another nod.

"You should change your clothes; you wore that tee for like three days now." He paused to sip his own coffee. "And also, if you _want_ blood, we can stop and steal from hospitals."

* * *


	15. Definition

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"**

**I don't like this chapter.**

**The only part I do like is Gerard's flashback/dream scene. A little Gerard past insight and whatnot, and The Baron, too. Everything else seemed weird to me. I figured it was better, though, to give you this than to make you wait while I write a whole new chapter. Usually I try to make things better and make people wait for it, but I've been delaying it long enough. **

**Also, you're probably getting tired of this whole look-at-Pete's-bloodlust-with-his-friends-around-don't-you-feel-bad-for-him thing. I'm sure you get it now. So just deal with it once more please.**

* * *

Gerard thought about what he should do next. What did he enjoy doing? Well, he liked music. But he didn't really have access to much right now. Drawing appealed to him, and he actually wasn't that bad at that, but it wasn't like he carried a sketchbook on him. The three-man-gang had set up camp in the middle of nowhere, almost. It was in a little clearing just outside of a woodsy area. Gerard had started a fire, after Sorel and Mikey had fallen asleep to avoid the bitter cold. Sorel didn't seem to mind, he just passed out, drunk as usual. After being convinced by Sorel to have a few more than he usually did, Mikey was able to ignore the cold enough to fall asleep before the fire was built, too. This required Mikey stealing Gerard's coat and using it as a sleeping bag, but Gerard didn't really mind. He felt a little like he owed something to Mikey, that and the fact that since Gerard could manage the intimidating older brother role, Mikey could also fit the wan younger brother role.

There were a million things Gerard could and should've been doing then. But he decided to sleep instead. After all, nighttime is no fun when you're alone.

---

_"Checkmate!" Gerard had the smile of someone who was trying to resist looking smug, but still couldn't fully hide the enthusiasm of his victory. He sat a tad taller in the velvet-cushioned dining chair and flipped a few locks of ink black hair away from his eyes, flipped them again when they fell forward defiantly, and finally not bothering when the same thing happened a third time._

_The Baron raised his eyebrows in shock. He craned his head forward, studying his antique wood chess set, his cane set on the side of the chair. Tipping his gray fedora away, he nodded in agreement. "It appears you have won."_

_Gerard gave this a nod. Then, slowly, the smile on his face faded into a look of realization, then sudden fear. "DON'T KILL ME!" He raised his arms to his head in defense._

_The Baron laughed as if murder was far beyond the scope of his abilities. "Kill you?! Why would I do that? Au contraire, my boy. I want to reward you."_

_"Pardon, sir?"_

_"I understand that you and a few friends of yours are part of the team that assists the man who's head of the torture chambers."_

_Gerard nodded._

_"Well, I need to replace one of my lieutenants. And that's going to be the aforementioned head of the torture chambers, Vulcan."_

_Gerard nodded again, his dark eyes skimming the room as fast as he could manage, and his eyes still retained most of his surroundings. He was able to do this and still focus on what The Baron had to say. Gerard was told often that he was a quick thinker. Though he usually shrugged at the compliments or denied them, deep inside his heart swelled with pride at the fact that others considered his skills useful and noticeable, such as a new trick he developed where he could tell if someone was lying by the direction they moved their eyes in when they talked._

_"Therefore, you must take his place as the head of the torture dungeons," The Baron said. _

_Then there was a brief pause in the conversation. A lanky teenage boy entered with a silver tray balanced on one hand, like an expert waiter. On top of the overly decorated and shiny serving dish was two plain white porcelain teacups with silver holders for cream, sugar, more tea, lemon, honey, blood, and whatever else could ever possibly cross The Baron's mind that he would want it in his tea. _

_The Baron handed a teacup to Gerard and let the boy, who Gerard suddenly realized couldn't have been older than sixteen, sort out the rest on the table. _

_"That'll be all, my boy. Have a nice afternoon." The Baron waved away the boy, who mouthed "Help" to Gerard as he walked by._

_Gerard pretended he didn't see that as he heard the door shut behind the teen and poured molasses in his tea. _

_The Baron 'tsk tsked'. "That's a boy who will no doubt land himself in the care of YOU." Then he smiled, overflowing with enthusiasm for Gerard. "You start bright and early tomorrow, by the way."_

_  
Gerard stood up and bowed, smoothing out the creases in his fine black suit and red tie after standing. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."_

_"Don't forget you're being assigned this job because I know you can think of new, creative things. Don't prove me wrong or risk being on the wrong end of the whip. Understand?"_

_"Yes, sir, but a question…"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I have a brother who's the only one I'm familiar with in the Dandies who's not on the, uh, the torture squad. Can he-?"_

_"Join to fill your old position? Why, certainly!" He waved Gerard away. "Now scoot. And send Vulcan to me."_

_Gerard nodded again, turning to leave with a smug smile and a spring in his step. He chose only to focus on the success of the moment and not on the fact that he would have to come up with 'new, creative' ideas for torture._

----------

It was about eight PM, and Andy was the only one up. Usually this bothered him; it wasn't that he resented getting up early, it was that he disliked being the only one up. And of course, this left him with the duty of making coffee and possibly driving.

He waited for the coffee to drip into the pot, watching the little red light on the machine, as he drummed the top of the mini-fridge with two plastic spoons. He was pretty sure it wasn't loud enough tapping to wake anyone up, but if it was, then they should wake up earlier anyway.

Andy had no idea if Patrick also wanted coffee but he decided to reach for four mugs anyway, pulling all four out at once, looping four fingers through the handles on the mugs like an expert.

"That stuff had better be black."

The shock of Pete's voice made Andy stumble and two mugs went crashing to the ground. "Owww! Crap!" The shattered porcelain scattered and cut the top of Andy's left bare foot.

He hopped over to Pete's little couch bed and inspected the wound.

And so did Pete.

"CRAP! I hope this doesn't need stitches or something! Patrick can't do stitches to save his life!" Andy let out some intelligible whine/moan and looked around. "Do we have like, bandages around here or some antiseptic or something. He let out another little noise and began to rise on one foot to fetch the medical supplies.

"Oh, don't _hobble_. I'll get it." Pete growled, pushing past Andy and grumbling a bit as he stepped over the more visible shards and going towards the top left cupboard, realizing with another growl that he was too short to reach it. He pulled up a folded pile of (formerly) clean clothes, a hard pillow, and pulled aside a box. He shook the box to hear what was in it. It sounded breakable, and he therefore assumed it was stuff Patrick used to make weapons and tinker around with. He was the only one who tinkered around with anything, and it wasn't like anyone in the RV carried around any valuable memorabilia (they didn't have ANY memorabilia). Pete only used the pillow and clothes and was still able to reach the first aid kit. "You want a lollipop?"

"Shut up. I'll take care of the wound myself, okay? I just need you to-"

"No, I'm serious," Pete jumped down, first aid kit in one hand and unopened box of Blow Pops in the other.

"Oh, awesome! Yeah! Give me one!"

Pete tossed Andy a purple one and chucked the candy back up.

"You don't one?" Andy stuck the lollipop in his mouth before unraveling some fresh, white gauze.

"Sugar'll make you hyper."

"And coffee won't? Besides, you eat sugar."

"Yeah, but that's probably just sugar with corn syrup and dye and nothing else. At least stuff like ice cream's got dairy."

"Whatever."

Pete hated it when Andy answered that way in his blasé, I'm-okay-you're-okay-so-that's-okay tone. It made him feel like the asshole for continuing an argument.

A couple minutes or so later, Andy was done with the mediocre first aid job. "I guess I should clean up the porcelain…"

Pete made a face of disgust. "You gonna clean up those bloody cloths you left on the table?"

"Oh yeah, in a minute,"

As Andy stumbled around to pick up the pieces, Pete stared at the table and its red contents. _What does he mean 'in a minute'? Freaking pick it up and throw it out. _As a familiar, almost indescribable pang went through his stomach and seemed to vibrate up through his teeth and head, he took a nervous step back away from the table.

Andy lifted his foot again, looking at it. "Did I do this right? I'm going to go wake up Patrick. Hang on."

Pete chewed his lip as Andy left him alone. With bloody bandages.

Key word there being 'bloody'.

Pete looked at the coffee, trying to focus on the bitter smell of that instead, when the deplorable thought in the back of his head flashed to the front.

_No. That's sick. No way._

Pete actually went so far as to turn his back to the table, forcing his eyes on the coffee. _I'm not a JUNKIE. I'm not like those freaks who lick the inside of a bag that used to hold crack or something after they ran out. I'm not like those alcoholics who will eat or drink anything that's got just a little bit of alcohol in it because someone took away their supply._

_But it's his fault. He left it on the table. Is Andy mocking me? Is he testing me or something? Does he want me to take it? _Pete glanced at where Andy and Patrick were in the back of the RV. Andy had taken long enough that he decided to take a seat and Patrick was pointing to something on his foot.

And facing the coffee wasn't working. He could still smell the blood! _FUCK!_

Pete had enough. He whipped around, stumbling past where anyone could see him. He grabbed the red bandages and lifted them to his mouth sucking up any blood inside them, savoring the tastes of real blood he hasn't had since… an unthinkable amount of time.

Finally, when nothing was left, Pete tore it away from his lips and ran to the garbage can, tossing it in and licking any trace of blood off his lips.

Andy came back into view. He looked at the table. "Where are the bandages?"

"I threw them out for you, lazy ass. They were making me sick."

"Oh yeah. Bloodlust. Sorry. Thanks, though." Andy went to the driver's seat, sitting and looking over the map.

Pete heaved a sigh of relief. Contrary to what he thought would happen, he didn't feel a specific need for Andy's blood.

Now he just wanted blood.

---

_"SCREW THIS SHIT!" The largest man around ordered. He hulked at about six foot seven, six foot six maybe, looking at him one would probably guess three hundred pounds. _

_Two other men let out murmurs of agreement, barely audible. _

_"HOLD ON!" Another said. He threw the hood on his pitch black hoodie, nearly as dark as his skin and eyes. "We gonna let these punks beat our asses like that?!"_

_"SO? We'll get'em better next time!" The fifth person's voice, this time a woman without an obvious specific race, negotiated. "Let's get blood slaves off of some wusses somewhere else!"_

_The man with the hood let out a shout of anger. But he didn't stay behind when the other three ran off._

_Pete stood and watched them leave. He was in the middle of the nearly empty street, closely spaced stores dotting the sides of the street. They were barren stores; their owners and customers were long gone now… but Pete was not alone._

_"Did… that just happen?" Andy stepped toward Pete, ignoring his jawline-length hair as it fell in front of glasses._

_"Unless we're group-hallucinating, I would say they just ran away,"_

_"NO WAY!" Joe shouted, joining their miniature circle and shoving the other two for effect._

_"Was that our first real victory?" Patrick asked them, applying pressure to a bite wound on his forearm with a rag._

_"Well, there were seven of them when they came, and five went running. You do the math." Pete was eerily calm, and tired-looking slouch combined with the moonlight and his skinny frame made him look inhuman._

_Patrick stared at the others, wide-eyed. "What should we do?"  
"What should we do, Andy?" Joe asked Andy._

_"What should we do, Pete?" Andy asked Pete._

_"What should we do?" Pete repeated the question._

_Andy nodded._

_"What. Should. We. Do?"_

_Andy raised one eyebrow and nodded again, this time in a cautious fashion. _

_"We should…"_

_In his dramatic pause, Andy looked around at the other two a few times, Patrick shifted his weight from foot to foot. Joe just stared at Pete._

_"We should party."_

_"PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!" Joe hollered, echoing in the empty streets._

_As Andy jumped around with Joe in glee, the merry two using up any energy they had left after fighting off vampires, Patrick just gawked at Pete. "Party? Really?" He knew Pete wasn't outright mean, but he wasn't the type to say something so carefree and loose out of the blue. Patrick smiled at Pete though; he was glad Pete was relaxing for once and not being pessimistic about the future and the city._

_"Yeah. There's a gas station open. We can go get stuff there and then go to the junkyard to watch TV and make asses out of ourselves."_

_"Should we invite Dirty?" Patrick shifted his eyes around the scene, still smiling but still wary of Pete's attitude._

_"I'm one step ahead of you!" Joe had out his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial button. _

_"Tell him to bring those glowstick things…" Andy was trying to say to Joe before Joe held up his finger in signal that it was ringing._

_"HeyDIRTYYWE'REPARTYINGATTHEJUNKYARDBYE!" Joe hung up and threw the phone in his pocket._

_Patrick laughed, wrapping his wound after it stopped bleeding. "What if he doesn't know where we're going?"_

_"I'm sure he caught the words 'junkyard'," _

_"What if he doesn't know we're partying? You probably just confused him!"_

_"Then he'll party! That's his answer to anything he can't answer otherwise!"_

_"To the junkyard!" Andy ordered._

_"No, to the gas station!" Joe corrected him, then followed, rambling something about how they're lucky that they may be able to loot the gas station and get away with it,_

_"Why are you acting so… party-ish tonight?" Patrick lagged behind with Pete._

_"Enjoy it while you can." Pete still had his freakishly calm smile painted on._

_"Eh?" _

_"As of tonight, we killed vampires with specialized weapons. They know what we do now. Now that we've actually gotten kills in, we won't look like a bunch of kids trying to be action movie heroes before running away from this town. We're annoying little threats now."_

_Patrick's smile faltered._

_"Cheer up, at least the Dandies aren't acting up right now."_

_Patrick was still in shock and his thoughts had trouble connecting and forming sentences. "But… what about… the guy… The Baron?"_

_"Silly Patrick. The Baron' s a myth, dude. He doesn't exist. The Dandies are just weird!" He snickered. "Now let's go party like its twelve years ago."

* * *

_


	16. Potential

**Disclaimer: I only own the content of this fic. **

**Once again, I apologize for the delays in updates. Especially this chapter, which I never thought would take me so long. It's not fair to you, and I'm sorry. I've been looking forward to writing the next part of the fic, so I'm really hoping I can get that to you faster.**

**Now, the chapter itself. The scenes for Amy and the bounty hunters may have come out a little strangely, mainly because I didn't start writing them with an idea of what I wanted to accomplish or where I wanted them to go. I just let them go. This may also explain the abrupt, weird ending for the bounty hunters' scene, the ending I dislike, but _that_ you'll just have to deal with. Claire's scene was easy and fun for me to write, but the vigilantes' scene, the scene for Sorel and Gerard and Mikey and the scene for the VFBI all gave me quite a bit of trouble. Not sure why. And I'm trying to make the VFBI a little less one-dimensional in this chapter.**

**As for the U-Bet attack scene, that was my cowriter stepping in. Excuse him.**

* * *

Patrick's dark eyes scanned the ingredients list. "Okay. Time for checking. Ready?" 

"Mmm-yep!" Andy answered. He, Pete, and Joe stood in front of the table, which was piled high with ingredients.

"Sage?"

"Check," Pete held up a plastic package of the spice.

"Rosemary?"

"Check," Pete's other hand held the rosemary.

"Blood of a virgin?"

"Check," Joe held up a leather band with a clear vial filled to the brim with blood. He stared at it as if he were looking at the face of someone who just gave him an order in Esperanto.

"Six cloves of garlic?"

"Check," Andy grabbed the garlic and held it up, then muttered an apology to Pete, who flinched when Andy almost hit him in the head with the garlic (which he kept a close eye on).

"Vampire blood from five different vamps?"

"We only have blood from four," Pete crossed his arms. "Mostly from that random bunch of vampires who tried to take us on a few days ago, and one sample's from one of those bounty hunter freaks. But we still need one more."

"Yeah, assuming you and the priest won't work if you'll be taking the cure. We'll get it after we go to the next town." Patrick scribbled on another copy of the list.

"Our two months are almost up, though. We have to meet him after this."

"Then we'll make it fast," Patrick ignored Pete's doubtful rolling eyes. "Coconut milk?"

"Check,"

"Red wine?"

"Check."

"Yule log?"

"Check," Andy held up a Yule log.

"Redwood leaves?"

"Thank you, E-bay!" Joe brandished a plastic bag of leaves.

"And holy water. I got some of that." Patrick nodded and put the list away. "Once again, we have run out of food. Our only choice is to pull over into the next town with a place we can buy some." As he said this, he unfolded a map. "It looks like it's right on the way to the location the priest needed us to be. It's called Purity."

"I hope it's better than the last two," Pete grumbled.

"Looks like the only way we'll find out is to go there, right?"

---

"These waffles are soooo good!" Claire gushed to the waiter who gave all three girls their third serving of Pepsi (they were only half done with their food). The waiter was lanky and pale with dark hair and icy eyes. He was more… unusual-looking than he was legitimately handsome, but it didn't stop Claire, Braids, or Noodle from trying to use their differing genders to get the best of him.

"Oh no!" Braids took out her wallet and looked inside. "Do I not have any money?!"

The waiter's smile disappeared. "Well then, you'll have to-"

"Did I say not have any money? I lied!" Braids interrupted him immediately, seeing he wasn't into letting them get away with not paying.

"Alrighty then," He left.

"Where we going next?" Noodle asked Claire.

"For dessert, duh!" Claire answered, ignoring the fact that four A.M. breakfasts do not typically involve desserts, and that her 'breakfast' was chocolate chip waffles with whipped cream and strawberry syrup.

"How do you think those guys are doing?" Braids asked Claire.

"Who? Peter Panda and those people?" She shrugged. "They're probably fine!

"Didn't they say something about some magical cure?" Braids kept good eye contact with her companion as her hands, looking for something to do in the way that humans do, held a spoon she flipped about in a puddle of blackberry syrup on her half-eaten waffles. Obviously unless she was around other people, Braids felt no reason to make most of her sentences consist of only spews of lies.

"Some cure for vampirism…" Claire spread her arms wide in a gesture of excitement, nearly knocking over the Pepsi. "It's like a bad movie, or an average-quality fanfiction!"

"Why would someone write fanfiction for _them_?"

"Dunno!"

Noodle was silent. Instead of participating in the conversation, she was dissecting her waffles with guava syrup all over. It didn't look like she was eating so much as she was conducting a scientific experiment. The way she held her focused and fascinated dark eyes near the breakfast made it seem like her whipping out a notebook and 'recording her results' was just moments away. But then she put her fork down and decided to participate in the conversation.

For the next seven minutes, the clique discussed how much they missed their cheerleading uniforms and friends back home, how much they don't miss their math and driver's ed classes, this restaurant's Pepsi compared to the cola of the last six, the weird white color of the porcelain plates in this dinner (_so_ damn white, what detergent did they use and was it of this planet?), how long it had been since they've been on MySpace, who in the restaurant they were going to pickpocket next, and how cute those four waiters were.

Then Braids accepted the check from the pale waiter. She used a credit card (that they had stolen and therefore had no idea if it was worth anything), signed for Art Vandalay, and actually stuck a legitimately good tip under the plate before they left, carrying the restaurant's glasses (hey, they paid for those Pepsis and they still had a quarter left!). They made it into the leather-seated SUV (which they stole, but that was four cities ago, so they're safe for now) that was shiny and new and the only flaw with it was its hideous poo-brown color. They made their getaway before the waiter could do anything about the stolen credit card. Even if he did, and the girls got the card taken away, they had twenty-seven more to choose from.

---

Sorel looked down at his watch, only to realize that he must've been wearing a broken watch for a month now. Or maybe a few days, who knows anymore. "Sooo. _Gerard_. What is your opinion of this town?"

Gerard looked around the bar. Metal-latticed windows and dark wood floors. "It looks a little more organized than your regular bar. There's something a little off-putting about the place that I can't put my finger on." Gerard looked to the side, obviously wondering if maybe it had something to do with the way that a black-haired vampire in the corner with thick eyebrows and a nice sweater with a 'Tour Guide' sticker on it treated a tourist-y looking couple in their late thirties (smelled like sunscreen, had fanny packs, and matching clothing) to what must've been their fifth round of chardonnay. Was he trying to get an innocent, human couple of ignorant tourists drunk? Oh well, it wasn't his problem.

Mikey arrived back to their area of the bar in the middle of the counter from the bathroom. Sorel knew they must have looked intimidating and criminal-bad-boy-ish, so he insisted they sit in one of the most visible, central parts of the bar.

Sorel looked at Mikey. "Good news! We're staying for the weekend."

Gerard blinked. "It's not the weekend."  
"Oh good! We get to stay even longer then!"

---

Amy took a seat on the bed and crossed her legs, observing her surroundings. The bed she sat on had a white, fluffy down comforter over shiny black silk sheets and pillows with cases of the same silk. The night tables were covered in mirrors. The flat-screen TV that was mounted on the wall in front of the bedroom of the suite was white, matching the comforter and the immaculate white carpet. The walls were painted black. Amy could see inside of the bathroom attached through its open door. Black and white tiles on the ground matched the wall (tiled the same way), black marble countertop and stainless steel sink, white Jacuzzi bathtub, and black-tiled shower stall. Little bottles of high-quality shampoo, conditioner, and lotion stood still and numerous near the scented soap bars, looking like an obedient army standing with guns at the ready, waiting for an order, waiting for _the_ order.

Yes, this was an expensive suite. Amy had the money, she figured _Why shouldn't I use it? _Actually, it was her brother's money. Currently, she was using the part of the family fortune that was his (he's dead, not vampire-dead, dead-dead, he's not using it). If she could treat herself, she would. Besides, it wasn't like she was out buying herself mink coats and cappuccinos at every turn (well, maybe cappuccinos, but not the coats!). She should get to treat herself every once in a while. Not just because she was an accomplished fighter who had made a name of fear for herself in the vampire world over the many years. Not just because she was more than happy to be able to, after being trapped in a coffin with nothing but her own thoughts and death and fear for years, think to herself _I still got it _when her overstayed presence made people stumble and drop things and stutter and spill drinks. No, she deserved a treat for a much bigger accomplishment: between her and her brother, William, _The Baron_, SHE had won. SHE had won the battle- survival of the fittest. Granted, though, her brother had died at the hands of another. _No matter_, she thought. _That'll be what I'll work for next. _She would say getting Pete (and that IS the proper word for it, _getting_ him) was her next goal in life. She had beaten her brother, this was the next opponent. To tell the truth, she almost didn't want Pete to lose quite yet- almost. But she knew it was inevitable. He was too young, too emotional, too inexperienced, and worst of all, his damned, beatless heart was just too big. It was true what they said about him in the vampire 'underground' she had familiarized herself with since she had come out of the coffin, from the ones who had met The Baron and heard what his opinion was on his soon-to-be protégé (yes, believe it or not, Pete was somewhat known among the vamps Amy associated herself with - for better or for worse). They said that The Baron was always ranting and raving about how well he could do with Peter if only someone would one day detach him from those silly hunter-amateurs who followed him around, and who he followed around. And The Baron was gone now, thanks to said supposed protégé.

Yes, everything considered, victory on Amy's part seemed inevitable. It HAD to be. _Room service time! My favorite part._

---

Jared took a seat on the bed and crossed his legs, observing his surroundings. The bed was possibly one of the cheapest he had ever come into physical contact with. The TV had a fine layer of dust. The hinges on the door to the bathroom were rusty. The tile was yellow, clashing with the nubby brown carpet of the main room, and the coffee maker was in the bathroom. There weren't any free shampoo samples or soap bars. The walls were painted an annoying orange. The two beds had the same mint green, floral-patterned quilts and vaguely matching pillowcases.

Yes, Jared believed that just because they had money didn't mean that they HAD to spend it. In fact, it was better to send the idea to people that they _didn't _have money. Of course, it wasn't a problem for them even if someone thought they did… Jared and his group and been almost-mugged quite a few times (needless to say, since they roam the streets most nights doing jobs) but they have never lost a nickel. They were too quick, too smart. Most muggers were either too nervous or too drunk to win against this group.

Besides, Jared enjoyed hanging around the poorer areas, the vicinity of this motel included. He found that if he hung out in richer areas, nothing seemed to happen (rarely even at night!). Spending all their times in richer areas just because they could, Jared figured, would only make them soft and comfortable in their surroundings, and worse yet, they would ease into normality. The poorer areas of the world were so much better! They were much more unpredictable. Some places even had most of the night activity going on in the day as well, as if there was no sun! _I love those places. _Why, just tonight a good-looking teenage boy with a lanky build, tanned skin, and hair a cross somehow between blonde and brown approached them. Should they have been in a rich suburban neighborhood, _What would he be selling, candy? Boy scout cookies, maybe? Smoothie shop coupons? _But no, they were in an area where even a Starbucks was unlikely. They were approached and asked, simply and to the point, if they wanted pot for cheap. What Jared really wanted was the boy's hoodie, which he was wearing right now, but that was beside the point.

To occupy himself, Jared turned to his brother, who was making coffee (which they would drink black) in the bathroom. They were drinking coffee at some time past four because Jared insisted they still had planning to do. The other two members of the bounty-hunting group waited, patiently, for coffee to come. Later, they would be retiring back to their rooms, leaving Jared and Shannon in this one. Jared _insisted_ they come because they still had planning regarding their latest mission. Based on information they had gathered, they were trying to figure out the best way to handle the four heads Sorel had assigned them.

When they are given a mission, for these four men, whoever needs to be killed (or captured) for their cash are no longer people, but _heads_. Walking sources of income. They were price tags on moving meat. It didn't matter who you were, just how much you were worth. If you were on that wall, it didn't matter if you were a teenage girl, or an elderly man, or a child who hasn't even reached age six. Like it or not, the government views you as a threat to the overall well-being of the United States, and felt it fit to let everyone know. So the second you're placed on that wall, to not just this bounty-hunting team but to almost all of them out there (and there were hundreds), you lose all your features and characteristics, the only parts of you mattered were how many zeros were after your price and how hard it would be to get your head. In this day and age, when you break the law, you join the herd, ever living in the possibility of being 'picked off'.

---

"I'll have theee…" J.K. looked over the menu. Though he had claimed to be ready when the waiter came by, this was obviously a lie, possibly for no other purpose than to bug those around him, mostly the waiter. "Waffles with guava syrup."

The unique-looking waiter nodded. "Excellent choice. And for the rest of you?"

Next, the waiter took other orders of triple-chocolate chip pancakes ("With U-BET SYRUP, DAMMIT!"), citrus pancake special, and the Jumbo-Jumbo Super Size Hungry Man Pancake Variety Platter. He left. And a minute later, Agent S.J. excused himself as well for the bathroom.

The second he closed the door to the bathroom (and his agents made sure he did), it was as if a teacher had left the classroom. Agent J.K. put his feet on the table, nudging T.R. a bit so he could have some room. A.L. put her feet on up the vacated side of the seat, her feet resting where S.J. had been sitting.

A.L. turned to J.K. and actually took her sunglasses and tossed them on the table. J.K. did the same. "Holy crap. That's like, the fifth bathroom break this trip. Constipation, much?"

He laughed. "_Hey, Pepto Bismol_!"

T.R. only stared at them. This was the first time he had seen any of the other agents take their trademark black sunglasses off, and he figured that they must have at some point and he didn't see. He never had until he was off duty. Should he? Was he able to, or should he hold off, considering the fact that he was their equivalent of a freshman?

She giggled. "Let's play the game!"  
"Yeah!" J.K. agreed.

"What game?" T.R. asked, feeling very excluded.

"The Waiter Game!" she replied, then didn't bother to explain it any further. "I'll start!" She knocked an iced tea over the side of the plastic-covered table. The glass shattered, tea splashing, sweetener that hadn't dissolved yet visible on the ground in white spots. "WAITER!" she shouted.

The waiter arrived.

"We had a little accident. Sorry."

"No problem!" the waiter insisted, smiling and going out of view for a moment for a mop. When he came back, he mopped up the tea and broken glass, first picking out the bigger pieces of glass. When S.J. arrived back, the waiter was done. The other two agents had put their sunglasses back on, their postures adjusted.

T.R. watched the others. He had always found them interesting to watch and couldn't help but wonder about their pasts and what made them what they were like now. He only had bits and pieces of each person's pasts, except for S.J., of whom he had a blank reading. When S.J. did talk about his past, J.K. had done something to make him incoherent and half-unintelligible. The words T.R. could make out, he didn't believe.

He knew J.K. used to have a rather large group of friends that he traveled with and worked with, and essentially spend most of his life with. He didn't know any specifics about them, except for the odd first name. The only reason he knew of these people was because J.K. would occasionally slip up and talk about them before catching himself, probably after a few too many beers. T.R. didn't know what had happened to them. He reached the conclusion that they either split up over their own differences, or perhaps whatever happened to them caused J.K. to join the Vampire FBI.

A.L. actually told him directly that she used to be interested in a career as a singer but abandoned it, simply because she realized how asinine the idea was. T.R. had a few times caught her singing before, and said she was very good. She would deny it and usually hit him. Hard. Once she even knocked him out.

All he knew about S.J. was that he had been working for the VFBI for years and years. T.R. suspected he might have been the first vampiric FBI agent or something.

Three girls, two blonde and one of Asian descent, darted by them, giggling and clutching the restaurant's glasses. The VFBI members watched them leave.

"Giggly girls only have one fate: a swift DEATH." Agent S.J. commented.

"Agreed." A.L. practically spat.

Under his sunglasses, Agent J.K scanned their bodies. "We should arrest them. Cuff them. Cuff them good."

Agent A.L. tried not to smile. "Easy there before you get a hard-on."

"Do we still have the furry handcuffs?"

She coughed into her hand, "Raging libido!"

"I'm thinking I go for the legs, you guys use the tasers."

"Ew!" T.R. finally said and giggled, much like the girls had.

J.K. stared straight at him. "Oh, grow up!"

The waiter arrived with their plates. Agent S.J. took a bite as soon as his was in front of him, and immediately spat it out. "This _isn't _U-Bet."

"We don't have U-Bet," the waiter replied indifferently.

"I _asked _for U-Bet. You should have GODDAMN TOLD ME you didn't have U-Bet!" S.J. punched the waiter in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. He then jumped out of his chair, picked up the gasping man, and suplexed him, driving his head into the ground with a sickening noise. He then stood up. "Sorry… trying to quit smoking. I'm a little irritable."

"Hey! Waiter!" A.L. called to another waiter who had watched in abject horror. "We accidentally spilled our waiter. Could you mop up the mess?"

* * *


	17. Likewise

**Disclaimer: I only own the content of this fic.**

**See? I updated faster this time! You must be so proud...**

**And no, there was no real purpose of the little Patrick-high-school-prom thing, just me being cruel. And looking back, sorry for picking a name so close to Joe's for the new character.**

**And if you don't know what a McMansion is... then... I dunno, ask me... it's not really that important... you can probably gather what it means if you take it apart and ponder it for a while...and if you don't know what _The Stepford Wives_ is either, then... look it up or move on. Or ask me. Wow. That was a lot of rambling, wasn't it?**

* * *

Pete, Joe, Andy, and Patrick stood in front of a large, white-painted iron gate. In the middle of it was a white kiosk with tinted windows. The time was 10 P.M., and they hoped the fact they must've seemed suspicious by coming in a city at ten at night wouldn't keep them out.

Pete stepped forward and tapped on the window of the kiosk. "Hey. We wanna come in." He was wearing a relatively tight-fitting mix of a hoodie with thin black-and-white stripes, black jeans, and black boots. Combined with his pale skin and black hair, he looked like an old black-and-white movie style version of himself a year or so ago.

The window rolled down. Instead of seeing a male cop who would've very likely been portly and middle-aged like Pete suspected, he was met by the face of a smiling young woman. She had a lot of makeup, a curtain of long blonde hair, and white vampire teeth. "One minute, please!" Then, with a quick look at the other three, she rolled the window back up.

Pete turned around and exchanged 'UH-what?' glances with the other three. But before he could say anything else, she opened the door on the side and stepped out in front of the gates as they opened up slowly. The girl was in good shape with athletic arms, bare under a frilly, white, lace-laden top. The rest of her outfit consisted dark jeans and light pink sequined flats. "Welcome! My name is Rachel! What brings you to our lovely town of Purity?"

Pete narrowed his eyes in suspicion. There was a lot he didn't like about Rachel. She WAS a vampire, she wore too much makeup on her cheeks, and he could tell without turning around that Patrick was uncomfortable just by hearing him shift. This was because the girl had an odd resemblance to a girl Patrick had known and had brief relations with in high school. The girl he was thinking of had played a cruel trick on Patrick; she was the popular girl who invited one of the outcast boys (Patrick in this case) to the prom, only for him to show up all dressed up and to find her in the arms of another boy. She laughed at him, as did everyone else there. The memory alone made poor Patrick blush.

"We've just come to… shop," Pete answered after studying her.

"How nice! I love to shop. Purity offers a wide variety of stores to fit all your desires. Top-notch designer boutiques can be found next to our grade-A cafés. In fact, our new coffeeshop, Buzz Fill, offers a unique menu that allows you to put infusions of special, imported ingredients tailored to fit vampiric health needs in your coffee-"

"Grocery stores?" Pete suddenly interrupted her. _I didn't need your town's history, Little Miss Marketer. _

"Of course! There are multiple organic food stores offering pesticide-free produce and our town is known across the state for the freshest free-range eggs available in our Whole Grain Supermarket!"

"…Okay…"

"Would you like a complimentary tour of the perfect vampire society?"

"Vampire society?" Patrick asked.

"Oh, yes!" Rachel lit up as she took out her cell phone and pressed buttons rapidly while keeping eye contact with Patrick, apparently sending a message at light speed. "But there's no reason to feel unsafe! We have constructed a foolproof way for vampires to live in a city all their own! The town has specialized ways to get sufficient energy supply for vampires." She put the phone away. "We believe that humans and vampires CAN live together in harmony, and we always welcome both vampires and humans into the city! Joel will explain the rest."

Almost out of nowhere appeared another person, this time a young man. "Welcome! My name is Joel! Would you like me to give you a tour of the city?"

Pete inspected him. He was at least six foot two, and a vampire. Short brown hair stuck up with gel, somehow cleanly cut stubble, and a blazer over a tie-less button-down and jeans. _What the HELL is this? Messy prep? Tall?! Ew. Stay away. I dislike you. _Pete crossed his arms over his chest. He was so busy holding contempt for Joel that he didn't notice that Joel had an outstretched hand waiting for him to shake for about six seconds now. Smiling wide, Joel turned to the other three and shook their hands instead. "Nice to meet you, I'm Joel, hi there! I'm Joel! AWESOME tattoos, I'm Joel…"

Pete, still facing Rachel with his arms crossed, listened to their conversations. _Ew. Stay away from them. _Pete desperately tried to send them telepathic messages about this Joel character. _Distance. Distance. Distance. _Now he sent them directly to Joel. _KEEP YOUR DISTANCE YOU CREEPY-_

"Ready to get going?" Joel managed to fit tons of enthusiasm into every word and the toothy smile was stuck on his face.

"Yyyyeah…" Pete followed him hesitantly into the city.

---

Rows of suburban houses lined the streets. White, multi-story McMansions. The front yards were a dull, winter green, and trees were bare, but the snow had melted. But the houses were more in the distance. Joel led the vigilantes on a walk on some odd strip of sidewalk between the suburban areas and the shopping centers. In the commercial centers there were plazas of identical white buildings with red roofs, many with either automatic sliding doors or a more unique door. Every store window everywhere was relatively the same, though. Depending on the store, they could have had vampiric old ladies and men coming and going, or maybe a parent with a couple kids, or some businessman or businesswoman with briefcases. There was an office building and restaurants of standard variations. A clothing store for an old ladies, a clothing store for little girls, a man's suit store, a fast food joint. It was as if it was a normal town, but everything was taking place at night.

Pete, meanwhile, wondered when he had fallen into _The Stepford Wives_. Surely there couldn't be this many vampires just living together, not killing each other over what appeared to be the only humans in the whole town (namely Patrick, Joe, and Andy). In fact, they didn't seem to notice, let alone care. Used to boarded-up buildings and the only other vampires they met in the night being hostile, Pete instinctively walked closer to the others in his group, trying to make them get a little tighter. Pete slowly walked closer to Joe, the closest one to him, as he tried to figure out a way to make them walk closer together and subtly exclude Joel from their little circle.

"Dude, personal space please!" Joe nudged Pete away. "What's your problem? You're being physically _clingy_. That's creepy for you." He reached out and felt Pete's forehead. "Do you have some kind of freak vampire disease?"

As Pete batted Joe's hand away angrily and darted at least ten feet away, Joel practically got a lightbulb over his head (he had been talking this entire time). "That _reminds_ me! Did you know that this city has had a clean record for infectious disease for _two years_? The last person to break the record was a human visitor!" He laughed heartily. "It's a good thing you guys seem to be in _great _shape!"

Pete rolled his eyes, then put his hands in his hoodies' pockets as a blonde woman in her twenties and her brunette friend passed him with a burst of laughter as they swung shopping bags over their shoulders and their professionally bleached fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Pete felt something in his pocket and pulled it out – a little glass tube. Patrick had given one to him as well as Andy and Joe. It was in case they happened to come across a fifth vampiric blood source, they could store blood they got without needing Patrick to do it.

Andy came up beside Pete, which he was quite grateful for. "Man, this place is, you know, nice-looking… but it's creepy, don't you think?"

"No shit," Pete replied, looking at a woman rock a crying two-year old vampire boy.

"I mean, how do you think they're getting blood?" Andy rubbed his hands together to warm them, rolling up the sleeves of his long-sleeved black shirt.

Pete stared a well-lit school and figured that was where all the teenagers and kids were. "Dunno. Maybe they _import_ it or something."

"How do they survive, though? I mean with bloodlust. Why don't they have it? Why aren't they attacking us? And how long do you think these vampiric kids have been, well, _kids_? It's kind of sick, isn't it?"

Pete fiddled with the miniature glass vial. "Maybe they're… used to it? Ask Patrick."

Andy seemed satisfied with this, especially the second half, which was often their answer to each others' questions.

They passed by a hotel (called the Clandestine Inn) while Joel narrated. "This is just one of our famous hotels, specialized to accommodate the needs of both humans _and_ vampires! The pool and hot tub are open 24-7 and you can order a variety of blood types from our blood menu. And as for the _wines_… you'll have to see it to believe it!"

They passed a child of about four with his mother. The boy stuck his finger in his nose, smiled, and said, "I remember the Dire Straights when they were just becoming popular!"

Pete curled his lip in disgust and looked again at the little vial in his hand. He could see the pale color of his palm through it, reminding him that the emptiness of it signified that his cure was incomplete. _His_ cure. Incomplete.

"And if you'll look to your immediate left you'll see The Bloody Owl, our town's famous diner! People flock from MILES just to get the eggs! Can you believe-"

"Hey, Joel…" Pete asked.

"-that simple eggs could do so much for business!" Joel finished before beginning to turn around to face Pete. "Yes, sir-" _THWACK._

Pete punched him square in the nose and immediately swiped the vial under and held it for a few seconds to get the blood that ran out of his nose. "Thank you, Joel. That'll be all." He sealed it and handed it to Patrick.

Andy and Joe snickered. Then Andy let out a giggle, and they both cracked up.

Patrick didn't take the vial at first. His mouth dropped as he desperately tried to hold in his laughter. "Pete… that was… totally… un… called… for…"

Pete smiled and ignored Patrick's comment, crossing his arms and turning to look at Joel and wait for his reaction.

Joel was frozen. His smile was still plastered on his face the entire time, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. Finally, after ten seconds, he took out a monogrammed handkerchief and wiped his shirt and nose. "That's _okaaay_! Now if you'll just look up ahead a bit to the left, the big green building is the city's bank, established 1969!" His voice had doubled in volume, and didn't seem at all affected by the loss of blood or the fact that said blood now occupied his nasal passages.

---

After nearly an hour of touring and pointless facts about endless stores, the five men had circled around and reached the hotel again. It appeared to them that they were the only tourists in the town, since everyone else seemed to walk with a purpose (and a smile).

The hotel was a pale peach-ish color and had numerous pillars. Marble floors were visible from outside, through the huge glass doors. Joel led Pete, Patrick, Joe and Andy up a few steps to the porch in front of the entrance to the hotel. An African American man with a fancy white suit (complete with a silver chain for his watch, black tie, and white fedora) was there to greet them. Like Joel, he towered above Joe, the tallest member of their foursome, by at least three inches.

"I welcome you to our humble town of Purity! I am Mayor Jay. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask your tour guide. Thank you for visiting."

Pete watched as the other three headed into the hotel, making sure he was able to watch them go in. He turned around and smiled at Joel. "Well, thanks for the tour! Have a good night! I know I will!"

Joel's creepy, constant smile widened and Pete thought he saw Joel's left side jerk before he responded. "Likewise."

---

Pete watched carefully as the lady behind the checkout counter handed them their room key (a plastic card). Her smile matched the smile of every single person he had met and passed by that day, right down to the perfectly whitened fangs. She tossed her thick, wavy dark blonde hair over her shoulder and flashed him a fake but rather nice smile, popping out against her professionally tanned skin. "We hope you enjoy your stay at Clandestine Inn."

---

"This is a nice hotel room…" Patrick looked around as the others walked in and Pete tossed a single duffel bag on the ground, off to the side.

There were two double beds with a gold-and-red floral pattern on the comforters and a TV between the two in a large wooden armoire. Two matching end tables held lamps and Clandestine Inn paper napkin and glass sets. The carpet was green with a gold ribbon pattern and the walls were a light gold color. A green fold-out couch was in front of the bathroom, with a set of blankets and pillows. It was entirely possible that this hotel room, though satisfying, wasn't all THAT much nicer than many… it had probably just been a long time since Patrick and the others had been in a halfway decent hotel.

Pete looked at Joe, then at the carton used for holding ice retrieved from the machine down the hall. "You should get ice."

"I'll do that." No questions asked.

Pete sat on the bed and immediately began flipping through the channels on the TV. Andy looked through the mini-fridge. Patrick packed the vial of Joel's blood away safely in a small compartment of the duffel bag.

After a couple minutes, Joe came back with ice. "Sooo… what do you guys think of the place so far?"

"You mean the city?" Patrick faced him. "It's… interesting. Curious. But interesting. I really like how there's an oven mitt in the drawer next to the Bible."

"The people seem nice!" Andy added helpfully. "And did you see that store for-"

"This place is FUCKING creepy!" Pete blurted out.

Patrick laughed openly, grateful for Pete's blunt opinion.

Encouraged by Patrick's enjoyment of his comment, Pete smiled and continued, jumping off the bed. "I mean, where am I? Stepford? Ew!" He held out his arms, making them and his legs look stiff, and bent his torso to make a forty-five degree angly at his hips. He imitated beeping noises. "Welcome. To. Purity. My. Name. Is. Joel. Welcome. To. Perfect. Society. Perfect. Society. Perfect. Society."

The others laughed with him. Joe joined in, also doing a surprisingly good robot-style pose, voice, and emotionless face. "My name is Mayor-bot. Welcome. Welcome. Welll-commmme."

"What?!" asked, but then laughed so hard he had to kneel down on the floor.

When Andy caught his breath, he joined them as well, doing some sloppily-done version of 'The Robot' with jerky movements. "My-name-is-Rachel. I'm-a-greeter-bot. Welcome-humans."

There was a pause of silence as they all took in Andy's less-than-average performance. Immediately following the silence was another burst of laughter.

Eventually, Patrick spoke again. "Okay. Where is everyone going to sleep? There are two beds, one couch, and… one…" He looked around. "…floor."

"I'll take floor," Pete volunteered. Bored, he turned around and inspected the only window in the room to see how he could cover it to avoid morning light. But the window appeared to have some kind of thick metal shutters on it under the heavy red-and-gold curtains.

"Are you sure?"

Pete gave him one of his sharpened-to-perfection 'looks' "I've been sleeping on that couch for over a month now, and before that it was a wooden coffin. Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll be stealing one of your quilts and blanket sets, though. And pillow, please. And I see that mint thingy, there. I'd kinda like that-"

"I CALL A BED!" Out of nowhere, Joe jumped onto a bed and bounced a couple times.

Patrick looked distressed. "Hey, look, Joe, we're trying to settle this like normal-"

"I'VE GOT SECOND!" Andy declared.

"You GUYS!" Patrick weakly shouted, stomping his foot like a four year-old.

"Patrick, you can live with a sofa bed for one night. Be manly." Pete commented as he began ripping off the sheets from Andy's bed.

Patrick pouted and crossed his arms as he stomped over to the fold-out bed. "Maybe I don't wanna be manly…"

---

"This bar is a lot nicer than the last!" Sorel commented with a satisfied grin. This was true. The paint on the walls was a lovely peach-ish color. There were a couple of pillars in the entranceway. The floors were made of marble.

"Do you get the sense that people don't like us here?" Mikey was referring to the fact that they had seen a couple of tourists that were being helped by an enthusiastic tour guide, to the point where he was buying them drinks. Their threesome, however, had received a rather cold, sarcastic 'greeting' from the blonde girl who manned the city gates and had not been offered any help in the form of eager tour guides.

"You noticed it, too?" Gerard replied.

"We're leaving tomorrow," was Sorel's response. "Who gives a crap what these people think of us?" He finished the line with a swig of good German beer.

"But I'm just wondering why…" Mikey persisted.

"Well, the stupid tourists we saw earlier were both human…" Gerard began to answer his brother. "And we're vampires, all three of us."

"Well then, we have a bunch of friggin' hypocrites!" Sorel said. "These people are ALL vamps too. Or have they not noticed?"

Gerard turned to the bartender. "Excuse me, can I get a Miller here?"

The bartender scowled as he quickly handed Gerard the beer, then made a point of turning his back to Gerard and walking away a bit.

Gerard nodded, handing the beer to Sorel. "That settles it. There's something weird about the people here. I don't think we'd be treated so rudely if we're paying customers, even if we're threatening, no, _especially_ if we're threatening, unless they view us as some kind of inconvenience." He paused and looked up in thought. "I wonder what…"

"I'll say it again: doesn't matter." Sorel insisted as he gulped down more beer and turned to face the TV in the corner of the bar. "Just have some fun. We'll give the Clandestine Inn here a little _parting gift_ tomorrow."

* * *


	18. SNAFU

**I'm very sorry about the delay there! I know, that must have sucked for you guys, since I was able to get the previous chapter in at a good time, but this one came a lot later. **

**Anyway, here's the second chapter. A little less than half of it, at least a third of this chapter is my cowriter's writing. He liked this part when we made the storyboard, so he decided to most of the action for it. He's been doing less and less of the fic series as it goes on, so when he wants to do a couple scenes for this installment I just let him do 'em. However, he probably won't be doing any more big chunks until the huge fight scene at the end.**

**Speaking of which, I also just want to remind you that said big ending fight scene will be coming up soon. As I've mentioned before, I'm actually going to give you an alternate ending (tacky as that may sound).**

**P.S. Got some Mikey action in this chapter. Love the Mikey.**

**P.P.S. A hundred life points for you if you can figure out who this Joel is. There's a hint in this chapter.

* * *

**

Pete fiddled with his hands in the dark, trying to figure out how many patterns he could make by lacing his fingers together in different ways. It wasn't as hard as you may think to do this without a visual, but one also has to consider that Pete had become an expert on this kind of thing.

The only thing Pete was focusing on was the breathing/snoring/shifting about of his friends. For some reason, this gave him a sense of security. It didn't make any sense to Pete. He figured after having this for so long, he would have practically 'built up a resistance' to it. Good thing he was wrong.

To beat out the insomnia, that night, Pete had tried the following:

Sleeping with more blankets than before.

Sleeping with no blankets.

Sleeping with the TV on mute.

Sleeping with no pillows.

Sleeping with an extra pillow.

Sleeping on a different spot on the floor.

Sleeping with a light on.

Falling asleep by counting sheep.

Falling asleep after dunking his face in a sink full of cold water.

Sleeping with a pillow on his face (he's willing to try almost anything now.)

And none of the above had involved sleep.

Pete let out a shaky sigh and considered saying a weak "You awake?" to anyone who might be awake again (he had done it twice already and no one had been awake). But before he could do that, he heard voices.

"Oh wow. That's hilarious."

"Thanks a lot!"

Pete kept silent. They were out in the hall. Both voices sounded familiar, but he tried to clear the cloud from his head due to how tired he was.

"I can't believe he did that."

"Little bastard."

"Me or him?"

"Shut up."

The voice laughed in response.

Pete could figure out that the laughing voice was female and the other male. Which was a good start…

"You must be real happy, though. This is the first job mayor's let you lead."

"I know, right?! Fuck! He never lets me lead! 'Bout time! Ugh!"

"Oh, what? You should be happy! I'm still stuck in this dead end '_Welcome to Purity!_ _How may I service you?_' bullcrap."

Now he laughed. Then he stopped suddenly. "OH NO FRIKKIN' WAY. My nose STILL hurts when I laugh!"

"Ohhh! Ha! He must've really smacked you, or maybe you're a wuss!"

Pete placed the voices. It was the tour guide, Joel, and greeter girl, Rachel from yesterday. _What are they talking about?_

"So this is the room?" she asked.

He laughed. "Yeah. All three of them in one room. Convenient, huh?"

_Is that OUR room? Nah, they're talking about three._

"What are you gonna do about the fourth? The vamp?"

"UH, kill him! DUH!"

"And we ambush the other three at dawn, right?"

"Right. They'll just die afterwards. No reason to make them join."

Pete heard himself gasp in shock. _No way! Do they mean what I think they mean? _Then he realized that when he gasped, they stopped talking. He was able to stop himself from gasping again when he realized they must have heard him.

Then, after a long pause, Rachel spoke again. "Whatever. See you in…" Another pause, possibly to look at a watch. "Wow! Twenty minutes! The night went by fast."

Pete waited until he heard both of them leave, then until he heard the ding of an elevator and the sound of a door opening and closing. He jumped up (fully clothed, which was how he slept) and turned first to Andy, shaking him. "Guys. GUYS. GUYS. GUYS. WAKE UP." He hit Andy on the head, and he finally pulled the sheets off his head.

"HEY! OW! WHAT THE- what are you doing?!"

"Get up. You get Patrick up. I'll get Joe."

Andy, obviously fearing a bomb threat, darted out of bed and over to Patrick. Pete turned to Joe.

"Joe, get up!"

"Go away…"

"I'm not kidding! Get up! I have to talk to you!"

Joe turned away from him. "I'm not a psychologist… talk to Patrick."

Pete hit him lightly on the shoulder, but Joe didn't do anything. Pete let out a growl, reached down, and yanked Joe's mattress out from under him, sending Joe tumbling off the bedframe and onto the floor on the other side of the bed. Unfortunately, Pete didn't realize where he was pulling the mattress, and it hit the wall, cracking the plaster.

"Holy cuh-RAP, Pete!"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Patrick pulled a pair of jeans over his boxers as he tried to shake the sleepiness away from his head. His black baseball hat was lopsided.

"I heard those two outside the door! That tour guide guy and the girl from when we just came in the town!" Pete gestured to the door.

Patrick nodded.

"They said they were gonna kill us!"

"Kill us?!"

"And… missions! No, jobs! They were talking about doing jobs. I don't know what that means! I don't…" He trailed off when he realized he must've been sounding a little dazed and confused.

"How long has it been since you slept?" Joe asked.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Andy asked.

"No, wait!" Patrick held up his hand. "Go on."

Pete stared back at him, eyes wide as he suddenly wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing. "Huh? I… don't know." Then Pete crossed his arms and looked down as an awkward silence made everyone more uncomfortable by the second. Eventually, Pete marched over to his floor-bed. "I'm going back to bed." Relief flooded his body when the others, possibly too tired to do anything else, all returned to their beds. But the relief faded away when a new worry crossed his mind. _Now do they think I'm crazy? Am I? No. There's no way I just imagined that whole conversation. It's TOO weird. It doesn't make sense. I could NOT have imagined that. I couldn't make that shit up if I tried! Right? Right. Right? YEAH. Do they think I'm crazy now? Patrick didn't. He believed me. Right? Yeah, the told me to continue._

These thoughts darted across Pete's head with feverish speed as he curled up on the hotel's quilt rather than wrapping himself in it. The only thing to interrupt was a few thumping noises and more voices outside. They were unable to place the voices, but the thumping sounded a lot like footsteps. Many footsteps…

"What the hell was that?!" Andy asked out loud.

Patrick wasted no time in turning on a light. In fact, he was already putting on his shoes. "I'll go check. It was in the hallway."

"Don't go out there alone. What time is it?" Pete grabbed his shoes, too.

"4:50 P.M. Still light out."

"I'm coming out in the hallway with you anyway. Knowing this place, they probably have EVERY window boarded up tight."

Joe had just woken up for the second time. "What? Where am I?!" He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around in shock until his eyes met Pete's and he remembered what was going on again. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"Going out in the hallway with Patrick."

"Why?"

Pete ignored him and went over to the door. Patrick followed, and they opened the door.

Joel the tour guide and about ten vampires stood by them. They were huddled around him in a half-circle; he must have been giving them orders.

Joel exchanged glances with one of the vampires, then looked at Pete, then at Patrick. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting you to do _that_." He laughed.

"What IS this?" Patrick demanded, frozen in shock. Andy and Joe had joined them out in the hallway, only to stop dead in their tracks.

"It's about to be lunchtime!" Joel smiled.

Pete recognized a look in Joel's eyes. It was completely different from the forced enthusiasm he saw earlier. It was the same look he had seen in the faces of all the gangs of hungry vampires back when their town was a hellish haven for their 'type': lust. It was the same look on the face of every vampire in the room.

Joel's crew was a motley one. Among it were males, females, teenagers, a preteen maybe, a woman in her sixties, vamps more in their twenties or thirties.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?" Joel offered.

"No," Pete growled.

Joel ignored him. "Give up now. It'll be quick and painless. For your friends, at least."

"Give up? Oh, hell no."

"Are you sure?" He almost looked sympathetic. "Come on, man. You don't know how many people have given us that phony '_I'm never giving up! I'm a fighter!_' crap and died anyway"

"So you've done this before?" Patrick interjected.

"Done this before?!" He looked at Patrick in disbelief. Then he laughed. "DONE THIS BEFORE? Are you stupid? This is my life! Tricking humans! How do you think this town _functions_?"

Patrick rubbed his chin in an intellectual fashion. "My guess would have been that you're farming humans."

"Well, we are, but that doesn't provide quite enough blood yet. So we get a little _income_ from tourism."

"Soooo…" Joe held up his hands. "Just to make sure I have this right." He pointed to Andy, then looked at Joel. "Valuable?"

Joel nodded. "Valuable!"

Joe pointed to Patrick.

Another nod. "Valuable!"

Joe pointed to himself.

"Valuable!"

Joe pointed to Pete.

"Dead weight!"

"Hey," Pete muttered. Then his eyes scanned the other vampires before landing on Joel again. "Well, you know what? I think that is the most disgusting thing that I have ever THAT WAY!" He turned on his heels and ran down the hallway, powered by adrenaline, fear, and gratefulness that the reflexes of Andy, Joe, and Patrick were honed enough that they were able to keep up as he led them to the stairs. But the thumping feet of the other vampires, powered by hunger, followed.

---

"WHOA whoa whoa whoa…" Sorel said. He was in a tight circle with Gerard and Mikey. They were surrounded by about twenty vampires. "Can we talk?"

Rachel shook her head. She was armed with a no-nonsense silver stake. "Hey, I was willing before. I said you should leave."

"And I said I wasn't done with my beer, dammit!"

"I'm still thirsty," Mikey said threateningly, drawing a strange-looking longsword from a sheath on his back. "You wouldn't like me when I'm thirsty."

"Mikey, I told you not to say stupid shit like that," Sorel said. He gestured, and a bottle of beer flew out from behind Rachel and into his waiting hand, before uncapping itself. Sorel chugged the beer, tilting his head back, and a male vampire of about forty charged Sorel with a silver knife. Without looking, Sorel telekinetically brought out his own sword and smoothly lopped off the man's knife arm. The man stepped back and began screaming and clutching his wound as Sorel lowered his head, the beer bottle now empty. "Shut UP!" Sorel slammed the bottle's top deep into the man's left eye, causing him to stop screaming and fall over. "One last chance to resume serving us," Sorel said, "because I'm feeling so generous tonight."

"I knew it," Gerard muttered to Sorel and his brother. "Town consisting of all vampires is suspicious enough, but when they're actively hostile towards other vampires despite obvious signs of a tourist trap…"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure this out, Gerard," Sorel growled. "So, you guys aren't going to serve us?" Rachel took a tentative step forward, eying him warily. "Guess not. Boys… do as you will."

"YYYAAAH!" Mikey ran forward, his sword at his side. An older vampire tried to stake him, but Mikey dodged the wooden spike and disemboweled the older gentleman. The man fell with a series of unpleasant noises, and Mikey stabbed his blade downward to finish him off. In this time, three more vampires charged Mikey armed with stakes. Gerard teleported onto the shoulders of one, a middle-aged woman, and snapped her neck. He then transformed into a wolf and jumped from the limp form of the woman, landing on the chest of a fat woman and ripping her meaty throat out. Although these injuries wouldn't kill a vampire, it was quite hard to move while missing a windpipe, jugular, or spinal cord, so Gerard could stake them later at his leisure. Meanwhile, Mikey had sunk his sword into the final vampire's chest and dragged it out diagonally, piercing the heart in the process.

Sorel sent his sword spinning through the air toward Rachel, and then turned to deal with three vampires running toward him. He kicked a barstool towards the closest attacker, snapping her stake and halting her advance, and then turned to the next one. "This is for ruining our drinking," Sorel snarled, uppercutting him into the air. The third attacker, a boy with glasses who looked to be about fifteen, grabbed him from behind, pinning down Sorel's arms. Sorel teleported behind the boy and picked him up by the hair. "And THIS is for ruining our beer!"

"We didn't do anything to your beer!" The boy cried.

"THIS is for ruining our beer and for correcting me!" Sorel turned and hurled the boy into the wall behind the bar, shattering bottles of beer, vodka, and other alcohol. The first vampire came at him, wielding the same barstool he had knocked toward her, and swung it down toward him. He dodged it and countered with a hook across her jaw, knocking out several teeth and dazing her. The second vampire came at him with a stake again, and Sorel telekinetically pulled the stake out of his hand and into the heart of the vampire whose jaw he'd just shattered. He then kicked the vamp's feet out from under him and stomped his chest until he heard several ribs break. "Who's left?"

Gerard returned to human form, his fingers and face now soaked in undead blood. "Just the woman, sir." Rachel had grabbed the sword in a pair of bar towels, and was furiously wrestling with it.

"Good, then this will be-" Sorel stopped as he looked at the chase occurring on the other side of a line of windows. The other side of the windows wasn't on the outside of the building; the windows allowed people in the bar to see people in the lobby, and vice versa. He watched as four disturbingly familiar young men ran out of the stairwell, flanked by over a dozen vampires. They ran toward the center of the lobby, only to be surrounded by at least twenty more vampires. "Are those Pete and the boys?"

"Yeah, I think so," Mikey said. "Who would've thought? Sure is weird, seeing them out here. Well…" and he began using his sword to stake vampires Gerard had incapacitated, "I guess those people will kill them and save us the trouble."

"Now, that's just not right," Sorel protested. "I have the exclusive right to kill Pete, Patrick, Andy, and… that hairy guy! I did not give it to these hotel-running PUSSIES! Let's go!" He pulled his sword back to his hand and ran through the door, flanked by Gerard and Mikey, leaving Rachel trying to awaken the other couple of vampires left un-staked.

"Get them! GET THEM!" Joel yelled. "You've got them surrounded! There's no way you can screw this up! Make sure everybody gets a drink, but KILL THE GODDAMN VAMPIRE!" Vampires rushed forward and swarmed the four, who defended themselves as best they could. Joe kicked or punched anybody who got to close, and drew a pair of stakes, both as a threat and as something to hold while he punched people to increase the impact. Andy slashed any vampire who got close, keeping a wide arc in front of him clear. Pete broke a few noses, but the fact that they were cornered in the center of the room meant everybody was protecting Patrick as he fired crossbow bolts over their shoulders. This meant they couldn't jump around, which especially limited Pete's range of attack.

"Damn," Pete snarled. "They aren't bad. Almost as good as the Dandies. Not up to the level of Sorel's gang, though."

"Damn right they aren't!" Suddenly, a few townsfolk flew into the air and zoomed off in random directions, crashing into walls or decorative furniture. Gerard leapt over Patrick and the others in his half-wolven form and dropped onto a vampiric young man, tearing into him. Mikey appeared next, beheading a few vampires while running. The fact that he never stopped moving kept the other vampires from landing a single blow. Finally, one man (who had grabbed Joe's arm and was about to sink his teeth into it) was suddenly jerked high into the air, where he was shaken around a bit before being dropped right onto the point of Sorel's outstretched sword. "Pete, I'm really disappointed. I mean, I send a whole team of the best crazy mercenaries in the country, and here you are, getting yourself killed by a common _tourist trap!_ It's like you don't care how I spend The Baron's money at all!"

"What're you guys doing here?" Patrick asked fearfully. "Are you with them?"

"Hell no! They stopped giving us beer ten minutes ago! We're here because only I get to kill you!" A bunch of vampires dogpiled Sorel at this point, and he collapsed under their weight. However, there was screaming from near the middle of the pile, and it didn't sound like Sorel.

"Isn't it strange for Sorel to help us like this?" Patrick asked Pete.

"Nah," Pete said calmly. "This place is full of children and old ladies that Sorel actually has a good reason to maim. It's better than beer and candy to him."

"And that's saying something," Gerard added, grappling with a very tall vampire. He teleported behind the bloodsucker (who must've been about 6 foot 8), and dislocated both his shoulders by placing a foot on the man's back and pulling hard on his arms. "Besides, they're after us, too. The odds of us all getting out of here alive – or undead – go up if we work together. Speaking of…" the very tall vampire was now thrashing wildly and Gerard was having trouble keeping his grip. "Somebody stake this guy while I hold him down?"

"Happy to." Patrick bulls-eyed the V.T.V. in the heart.

Meanwhile, Mikey and Andy were back-to-back, slashing away at a circle of freshly arrived vampires that apparently formed the room service cooking and waiting staff. They were all dressed in fancy uniforms or white aprons, and they almost all carried meat cleavers. "You're pretty good," Andy said as he ducked a high cleaver and staked the offending chef. "When did you learn to sword-fight?"

"About four weeks back, Sorel got this cool sword from a bounty hunter we killed. It's got a rifle that shoots silver bullet built right in. See?" Mikey pointed the sword at a bellboy's chest and pressed a hidden trigger. A shot rang out, and in a flash, both the bellboy and the female chef behind him were disintegrating. "Since I lost my morningstar, Sorel gave it to me, and I've been training with it every night since then." Mikey brought it down on a chef's skull, splitting it open. The chef dropped like a ragdoll, and Mikey brought the blade back up and around to parry a cleaver aimed at his own head. "Too bad I used up all the exploding bullets on another bunch of bounty hunters last week. Now I've only got silver ones left."

Pete was dodging the swings of a twelve-year-old with a baseball bat. "You don't belong here, kid," Pete said. "Get out of here."

"Fuck you!" the kid swung the wooden bat into Pete's leg.

"Ahh! Hell! Fine, you just struck out!" Pete grabbed the bat and his hands ignited, lighting the bat on fire. The kid dropped the bat in shock, and Pete picked it up and knocked the kid out (also lighting his blonde hair on fire).

"Let's dance, jerk," a voice said from behind Pete. Pete turned to find Joel wielding one half of a rusty pair of hedge clippers in each hand. Pete swung the flaming bat overhead, but Joel blocked it with one clipper, tearing a deep gash in wood that was already splintering from flames.

Joe kicked a teenage girl in the chin, and hopped into a kick with his other foot that knocked her over the lobby's help desk and into the large rack of mailboxes. He spied a set of half a dozen silver stakes hidden under the desk, and stuck one in the girl's chest. He then threw four into approaching vampires, causing two of them to disintegrate and missing the hearts of the other two. As he hopped back over the counter to finish them, he saw Gerard go down from a hit to the back of the head with a frying pan. Four other chefs converged on him to finish him off. Joe also took in that there was a large and very ornate glass chandelier over their heads. Without any further thought, he whipped his hand forward and hurled the last stake into the chain connecting the chandelier to the ceiling.

"Whoa!" Gerard looked up, saw the chandelier dropping toward him like a huge glass specter of death, and quickly teleported away. The five townsfolk of Purity were not so quick on the uptake. Gerard re-appeared next to Joe. "Thanks. You saved my ass."

"Wouldn't have made a difference to me if you hadn't gotten out of there," Joe replied gruffly, repositioning the stake in an older woman so it pierced her heart.

"Yeah, sure."

"And THIS ONE'S for dogpiling me!" Sorel lifted the last three vampires who had attacked him into the air and jumped up after them, sword extended. Screams and slashing noises were heard.

Pete swung the bat low, and knocked Joel off his feet. He brought the bat down toward Joel's face. "Thanks for letting me RUIN YOUR SMUG FACE TWICE IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS!" He expected to have smashed Joel's face in by now, but Joel had crossed the clippers like they were one piece again, and was blocking the bat.

"Why didn't you just split and leave your friends when you first saw this place posing as a threat?" Joel asked suddenly, talking fast.

It was sudden enough that Pete was caught off guard. "What kind of question is that?!"

"I've seen people do it before here!"

"I'm sure there's a way for all of us to get out of here in one piece!"

"No! There's not!"

"How do you know?!"

"Do you think I haven't tried to get out of here?!" Pete looked caught off guard and again, and this time Joel took advantage of this. Joel's face widened into a manic grin. "Time for the kickass CLIP of the week!" he brought the handles together, and the hedge clippers sliced right through the wood of Pete's bat, cutting it down to a third of its normal length. Pete stared dumbly at the smoldering chunk of wood in his hand for a second, and that was enough time for Joel to kick Pete in the gut and knock him over. Joel drove both halves of the clippers down towards Pete's heart, and Pete grabbed his forearms to stop him. Joel pushed down, and Pete pushed up, but he wasn't sure how long he could stay like this. "Let's see if this is close enough to a stake to work," Joel laughed.

Suddenly a rain of dark red gore and viscera splattered onto Joel's back. "Ugh! There are _intestines in my hair_!" Joel moaned.

"Look out below!" Sorel's voice rang belatedly from the ceiling.

"Yah!" Pete kneed Joel in the gut and pushed him off. Joel threw a clipper at Pete, but Pete dodged and jumped into the air, doing a front-flip and bringing his foot crashing down on Joel's blood-spattered scalp. "That felt good!" Pete yelled. He grabbed the stunned Joel by the neck, and carried him over to a tightly shuttered window. "Here, Joel, why don't you check for us if it's dark out yet!" Pete smashed Joel's upper body through the shutters, leaving his legs and ass sticking into the room. "Well, judging by your screaming and kicking, the sun's still up."


	19. Gone, Gone, Gone

**I have no excuse for not getting this in sooner other than writer's block and procrastination. Again, I come crawling for forgiveness, because it's not fair to you, and you guys don't complain. **

* * *

"What time is it?!" Andy asked Patrick. "I don't know how much longer we can keep doing this! They seem to have an advantage in numbers!"

Patrick looked at Andy, then looked up at the broken lobby of the hotel. Smoke was in the air, the chandelier had fallen, furniture tossed. A hundred vampires were milling about, most of them closing in on Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andy. "Yyyyyyyeah… an escape would be a good idea." Patrick cringed.

"Should we pray for a miracle?" Joe asked.

"You're Jewish anyway." Pete answered, brown eyes skimming the volatile vamps. By now, most of them had already been injured, leaving them broken, bleeding, limping, and extremely pissed off.

"So?!"

Patrick looked up and caught the time from the giant black-marble-with-silver-hands clock on the wall. "It should be nearly night! Pete, when you tossed that Joel guy out the window, it must have been close to sunset!"

"I wasn't honestly paying attention!"

"So do we go for the doors or WHAT?!" Joe shout-asked.

"You won't make it out in time!" Rachel led the mob. She charged forward, as did seventy-five other vampires. Patrick shakily aimed a crossbow gun at her, but she was tossed across the room by Sorel's force.

Sorel ran towards wherever she fell, but was yelling at the vigilantes in a panic to keep his 'mean asshole' reputation as Gerard and the other two lieutenants began thinning out the crowd. "Mark my words! This doesn't change anything! I'll kill you one day! One day soon! I still hate you! You're next! And you're UGLY!"

"You're ruining EVERYTHING!" Rachel shrieked, her face turning red. Her white, frilly top was stained with blood and dirt. "Why couldn't you have just curled up and died or joined us like EVERY OTHER VAMPIRE BEFORE YOU?! We would've let you feed with us! YOU RUINED THIS MISSION!"

"I didn't curl up and die or join your stupid little army like every other vampire because I'm BETTER than every other vampire!" Sorel shouted in response.

Her rebuttal was to shriek a battle cry and run toward him. But Sorel, using his telekinetic power, smashed the clock on the wall, making it begin to crumble and the pointy silver hands stick out. He sent it flying towards the fast-approaching vampire girl's back. It smashed into her, silver minute hand piercing her heart. She screamed before the clock crashed onto the pile of dust, formerly Rachel.

---

"OW OW OW OW!" Andy managed as three pairs of hands tugged on him, dividing strength between his left arm, hair and right leg. He tried poking them to get them to go away. It didn't work and he sliced instead. One person yelped and fell backward. Andy kicked another guy (looked like a deliveryman, brown UPS clothes) in the neck and was able to fight off the elderly woman grabbing his long hair.

He looked to his left and saw some writhing mass of Purity vampires, somewhere between fifteen to twenty of them, dogpiling someone (he had no idea who). Fearing it might be someone on his team, he started attacking them as well, but it was like trying to stop an ocean's wave with his rapier. Even though his hits, pokes, and slices were all making impact, no one was moving. Blood just began to decorate the ground around the moving pile. Andy stomped in his foot in frustration. His sword was of no help. He put it on the ground for a minute under his foot, then bent down, put his tattooed arms under a few people's legs, and grunted as he simply heaved people apart. It worked, and he was able to use his sword to fight people away. A few ran out of the hotel. In fact, only about ten or so vamps remained in the hotel lobby.

The victim at the bottom of the pile was Mikey. He looked incredibly dazed and badly beaten up. He only shakily began lifting himself off the ground, coughing, blood dripping off his chin with no one source of the blood visible on his face.

"Holy crap! Are you okay?" Andy held his hand out for Mikey.

The skinny vamp was crouching now, spitting blood and teeth, holding his ribcage. He looked up to the outstretched hand, only now acknowledging Andy's presence. He looked to Andy's face, then back to the hand. Then Mikey looked all around before looking back to Andy and shaking his head with a fearful look.

"Why not?" Andy watched with a pitied look for nearly a whole minute as Mikey straightened himself up. "Hey… wait a minute… where is everybody?"

They both looked around. The lobby was empty except for them. Outside, night had fallen, but fire made everything glow.

Without another word, Andy turned and darted outside. Mikey watched him leave, turned to give one final look around the lobby, wiped his chin, and limped out the broken doors.

---

Gerard watched as Sorel laughed hysterically. Now _this_ must have been some kind of fun to him! He wasn't just torching humans like he normally did when he lit a town on fire – these were vampires. As half the city burned, he watched and laughed as vampires of every age, race, and social group ran around in a tizzy, either trying to put their ignited selves out, running to get help, or trying to put someone else or something out.

But Gerard looked horrified. This was a nightmare. A true, horrific nightmare. All he could see was the orange glow of fire, casting a light on Sorel's overjoyed face. He could only smell burning wood and flesh. He could only hear people screaming and buildings crashing, structures weakened by fire.

Sorel turned to see Gerard's reaction and mistook his look of sheer horror with a look of excitement and maybe arousal. "I know, isn't this great?!"

Gerard's dark eyes widened even more, but before he could answer, Mikey came into view. "Can we go? This isn't fun anymore!"

"What are you talking about?!" Sorel yelled at him, making him flinch. "The fun's just begun; light something on fire!"

"Where'd those other guys go?" Gerard asked Mikey as he helped him stand up straight, noticing his injuries.

"You mean Andy and the other three? I was in the lobby with Andy…" When Mikey straightened his spine, he clenched his teeth as his ribs made odd popping noises, as if they were popping back into place. Then he looked physically fine, notwithstanding some blood on his face. "I saw him leave."

"Why didn't you stop him?!" Sorel demanded, teeth bared, leaning towards Mikey's face.

Mikey flinched again. "Uh, even if I tried he would have gotten away. I was injured from when some mob of preps lynched me."

Sorel growled at him but didn't push the issue. "I've fucking had enough of this! Once we're done with this place, we're following them! And when we do, those idiotic bounty hunters I hired had better have gotten there first or I'll tie them up and consistently slit their throats as punishment for days on end!"

"Uh… they're not vampires," Gerard pointed out.

"Yes they are," Mikey said. "Wow, Gerard, that's the first time you've been wrong in what… three years?"

"Four."

"You're right! You're back on track already!"

A few seconds before the brain gears in Sorel's mind clicked to make him register all of this. "Doesn't matter, they're still idiots! And their still getting their throats slit!... Damn, I need a drink. I sound like a fool."

Gerard's mouth dropped. This was taking it a bit too far and he couldn't hold his tongue. "How can you think about _drinking_ at a time like this? EVERYTHING'S ON FIRE!"

Mikey's mouth dropped as well. He turned to Sorel, then to Gerard with an "ooooh-you're-gonna-get-it-now" look on his face.

But Sorel didn't really care. "Crap, Gerard. Calm down. We'll ditch this hellhole late. For now… light something on fire. Even better, light some_body_ on fire."

---

On the red-tiled roof of a small office building, Shadows had his disgustingly oversized stake gun (more like a stake _launcher_, or maybe a harpoon). He was only about two stories up, but the current situation allowed for this. The burning city was in such a panic that it was unlikely people would begin to notice that others running around them were (one by one) being shot with stakes by one main source, let alone be able to place that it was from above. As people scurried about like ants after someone kicked an ant hill, he assisted in the slow burn that was formerly successful Purity.

"With the help of those four weird nomads-in-an-RV and the biker guy, picking off vamps is almost too easy." Shadows must have been so caught up with his own success that he didn't mind talking to himself.

---

"That was the second town we leave in ruin!" Joe looked in amazement, blue eyes wide, at the city-shaped bonfire as his four stood at the gates. "I don't know whether I should be really impressed with us, or disgusted or what." Even though they were far away from the biggest part of the fire (the center), the flames seemed to rise into the sky and cast an eerie orange glow over everything. The orange lit up Joe's eyes and made him look slightly crazed, more wide-eyed than usual, somewhat manic even. He crossed his arms and pondered the fire more.

"Neither. I say we forget we ever went here." Pete's arms were crossed and he slouched with his hood up. His curved figure was parallel to the glowing flames, casting his shadow on the ground. The distortedness of the shadow combined with his naturally skinny frame, now bordering on sickly, made his shadow look like a curved bow, sticking out black among the orange.

Patrick slouched too, but it was more of a natural, exhaustion-caused slouch with his shoulders drooping down. "I don't know. I just really want to go. We have to meet up with the priest soon at… oh hell, I forget. Let's just go."

Their RV was right where they left it. While the other three were thinking in front of the flames, Andy had already darted into the RV and scanned it to check for any immediately noticeable stolen or broken items. He threw open the door and jumped out. "Everything's cool in here, guys! We're ready to go."

"Not so fast!" They looked up at the source of the voice to see something large fall toward them. On instinct, Pete thrust his fist up and connected with something. Pete knew it was a face… he had punched enough faces now to know exactly what they felt and sounded like. The force of his punch threw the person off-trajectory, and they fell to the ground with a grunt of pain right in front of Pete, instead of on top of him like they had attempted. "Ow… I paid a million dollars for this nose job!"

"Oh, hi Mayor Z," Joe said blankly, unable to decide what emotion to use to greet him and too drained to use much anyway.

"Dude, what brings you to Pete's fist?" Andrew asked. "And why did you pay a million dollars for a nose job?"

"Don't give me that crap," the mayor yelled as he struggled to his feet. Pete noticed the stake Z had dropped, and quickly placed his foot on it. "You ruined my town! Ruined my dream! Ruined years of hard work, over a decade!"

"You… hurt my knuckle," Pete said. "Oh, and of course you tried to kill me and my friends."

"Also, your dream is the sickest, most twisted thing since Courtney Love," Patrick added. "We didn't even burn your town down, why didn't you go after those scary guys on the motorcycles?"

"I didn't think I could take all of either group down," Mayor Z admitted. "If I could only kill one of you bastards, I'd go after you four because you actually care about each other. And I want to hurt _as many of you as possible!_" He dashed toward Pete, but Pete kicked him to the ground and pinned him there.

"Here's what I think of you and your town," Pete growled, picking up the stake and slamming it into the mayor's heart. To his credit, he kept fighting until he was dust. "Let's go."

----------

"This is so weird!" Patrick stole a glance at the crowd from off to the side of the small stage. "I didn't think there would be so many people here tonight!" He was serious; he hadn't expected this crowd of thirty-five or so.

Pete was standing, looking bored, hood up, bass guitar in hand. Joe was powered with nervous energy like Patrick, but it wasn't quite as apparent. Andy was off to the side drumming on a folding table, him and his drumsticks settling for any flat surface they could find.

Their name was announced. Pete and Joe walked quickly onstage, followed by Andy, followed by Patrick (who, upon their name called, gave a quick little "AAAAGH" face).

Patrick was at the microphone (well duh, he's the singer). "Uh, hey, we're here to perform for you!"

Joe fake-sneezed "_No shit!_"

Patrick shot him a look as he continued. "Tonight we'll be performing the soooonnggg-…" He trailed off. Patrick froze, eyes locked on something in the back.

"Oh, for-" Pete figured Patrick got stage fright and was about to jump forward and grab the mike. But when he did, in the back, he saw what Patrick saw – four people (three men and one woman) walking in, clad in matching black suits and sunglasses…

* * *


	20. Get Us Right

"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh…" Patrick mumbled into the microphone, wondering how he was going to get out of this. He looked at the crowd, then to the rest of the band for a little backup. Andy shrugged his shoulders and looked at the crowd frantically. Joe adjusted his guitar, then looked to the VFBI, who were disappearing into a hallway that was so close to their backstage area that it was unnerving. 

Pete rolled his eyes and grabbed the microphone. "Ech-HEMMM. LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!" What he "sang" was some sort of odd metal scream. He strummed a loud, weird chord on his bass guitar, then roundhouse kicked the microphone stand offstage and into the crowd. Someone screamed; they must have gotten hit. "Thank you and goodnight!" Pete made a mad dash for the side of the stage that he hadn't seen their suited enemies approach.

Andy and Patrick scrambled to follow, forgetting their instruments, but Joe lingered when some guy in a spike of hair that wished it was a mohawk whined/shouted in pain, "Your microphone stand hit me in the head, you asshole!"

"Your hit our stand with your head!" Joe retorted before running off to catch up with the others.

Pete led the way through a cramped, musty hallway and through a room full of what looked like extra electronic supplies. When he emerged on the other side of the room, they came into a room that didn't seem to have much purpose other than waiting in it (white walls, dark blue carpet, no decorations, six plastic chairs). Its second door was locked. Pete waited for the others to catch up, then kicked the lock on the door to break it and shoved it open. They cleared one more hallway and then entered cold, dark night.

"OH! Victory!" Andy held up his hands to high-five whoever was available.

"RV now, high-fives later!" Joe shoved him in the general direction of the van, which was the only car on their side of the parking lot and two hundred steps away.

They began to run toward it, but a girl's voice shouted after them. "HEY! STOP, you damn wannabe vigilantes!"

"Oh crap, it's the FBI chick! Keep running!" Pete ordered.

"THAT'S NOT GOING TO WORK!" she shouted and began to run after them.

"AAAAGH!" Patrick shouted as they continued their chase to their vehicle. But, evident in the way that she was the first agent outside, Agent AL was a very fast runner and was gaining on them already.

"Stop RUNNING, DAMMIT!" she tried again. "I SEE you!"

Pete ignored her attempt to get them to stop. Instead, when she was close enough, he turned on his heels and ran to her instead. Just like he wanted, the element of surprise came through for him and she tried in vain to come to a screeching halt, only for Pete to duck down low. He grabbed her around the waist and used his momentum and vampiric strength to send her flying, screaming, across the parking lot a good ten feet. She flipped over and landed on her face and chest. Luckily for her, her team had arrived.

"What happened?" Agent TR asked her, holding out a hand to help her up.

She waved his hand away ad lifted herself up. Her face was pink from scraping across the cement. "_What happened?_ Well, as you can see, we were having a TEA PARTY."

"Nah, she's just kidding, we were actually just leaving!" Patrick tried.

"Oh no. You're staying right here!" Agent SJ declared, pointing to the ground for effect.

"Eep!" Joe squeaked.

Agent JK just arrived. He was wiping a little bit of blood from his lips, making it obvious he snuck in a quick feed before making an appearance. He looked first at Agent SJ, then at Agent AL, then to Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andy, then back to Agent SJ. "Uh… you tell 'em, man!"

The four boys waited for something bad to happen, but the VFBI just turned in to a little circle and began discussing something privately (probably a plan of attack).

"Wait… are they just… making a plan? Right there?" Pete asked.

"We should attack them," Andy suggested.

"No, wait!" Patrick turned his back to them. "Actually, we should do the same. We don't have a plan either."

"I have a plan!" Joe raised his hand as the four came into a tight circle.

"What is it?" Patrick asked. They spoke quickly.

"Can we try running? For once we have somewhere to be."

Andy shook his head. "No. Bad idea. We've been doing that like, half the time now. More, maybe. They mean business now; we've run away enough."

"Andy's right," Pete agreed. "Besides, it won't be of any use. They'll just follow us."

"Okay. Uh, shaky plan. Damn, I wish I had something better and less crude." Patrick rubbed his forehead and lowered his voice to a whisper. Lucky for them the VFBI were loud talkers; if they weren't too busy focusing on their own plan they would've been able to spy on them. "It'll require a little acting on someone's part. Pete, maybe you should do it."

"First of all, do what? Second, why me?"

"Because – I don't know, because you've done other weird stuff to win before!"

"Name one time."

"Pretending you had Mad Vampire disease and trying to hug that Brandon guy-"

"Got it, don't go any further. Now what do I have to do?"

Patrick jerked his head in the Vampire FBI's direction. "Pretend to admit defeat to them."

Pete blinked. "Hi, I'm Pete. Have we met?"

"WAIT!" Joe shouted. "BETTER PLAN."

The VFBI broke apart their huddle. "We're ready!" Agent AL shouted.

"HEY. WE'RE READY, YOU JERKOFFS." Agent JK added, as if they didn't hear them the first time.

Joe stood with his back flat and chin up. "Follow my lead!" he whispered to the others.

The others waited obediently for his lead… which turned out to be running full speed at the VFBI, shouting some sort of ridiculous battle cry. Surprisingly enough, Patrick was the only one that didn't follow. He turned around and ran back to the RV.

"HEY! You can't run away!" Agent JK ignored the onslaught of the other three vigilantes and began to take off after Patrick. Just as he picked up speed, he was tripped flat on his face by Pete.

"Wait, am I facing you again?!" Andy looked at Agent SJ. "Oh. No! I don't want to! I need a little variety!" He looked to the side, where Joe was getting up after being knocked to the ground by the female agent, a bloody lip already forming. Andy grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed Joe between him and Agent SJ.

Agent TR, meanwhile, had already taken off for the RV, having slipped away from the formidably sized fight escalating behind him. When he reached the RV, he first tried to open the door. It was locked. "Hey, I'm a member of the VFBI, and I ORDER you to open up!" When he didn't get a response, he knocked on the window. "Please?" When he _still_ didn't get a response, he broke the window. "Come ON, get outta there! Your friends are fighting! Don't be a wuss!"

"Bite me!" was Patrick's response. "If you think you're the bigger man, why don't you get in _front_ of my vehicle and show me!"

"What the hell do you think I am, some kind of idiot? You'll just run me down!"

"Then why don't you go around the _back_ and try to break in if you think you can kick my ass so easily!" TR couldn't see Patrick, who was reclined in the driver's seat, bored expression on his face, feet on the dashboard. But his fingers danced dangerously over a different set of controls…

TR smirked to himself. _Does he think I'm that stupid?_

Agent JK, however, DID realize that he may be that stupid. "Hey, wait, kid! Don't do anything! Get away from that RV!" Agent JK was using his upper body to crawl towards the junior agent to warn him. His sunglasses were broken and lopsided (but still not removed from his face) and his nose was bleeding.

Pete was also on the ground, toting a small bloody wound above his temple and a black eye, grabbing JK's feet. He was trying to pull the wannabe FBI agent back, but was only getting dragged himself. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? Do you not realize you're injured! You're crazy, even the pain isn't affecting you!"

"I may be crazy, but YOU'RE obsessive!" JK tried to kick him away. "It's a waste of time to check for something superficial like nine broken ribs!"

Andy was busy using his rapier as a shield most of the time to block AL's hits. She never slowed, though, despite bloody gashes forming on her knuckles. "Your sword's going to break if you keep this up! You realize that, right?"

"Oh, you're totally right! I should do something!"

While Andy tried to figure out exactly what was the something he should do, Joe once again followed his first instinct and kicked his opponent right in the face. The element of surprise was on his side.

It didn't take Agent SJ long to regain balance. "You're going down, punk." When he said this, he wasn't even angry… it was just a _statement_. He punctuated it by grabbing Joe's left arm and leg and lifting him above his head.

Joe freaked out, trying to wriggle down. "AAAAH, SOMEONE HELP! Hulk Hogan's attackiiiing!"

TR, meanwhile, was climbing on the side of the RV. He climbed up to the window directly next to Patrick. Patrick was just inside, picking at his cuticles, as if he hadn't even noticed TR. The junior agent couldn't believe his luck. He thrust his fist through the window again.

JK finally broke away from Pete and was running towards the other agent. "Hey! Get down from there!"

TR looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

"That guy in the RV is just tempting you. He obviously wants you to come towards the RV." Agent JK looked pedantic as he stepped in front of the vehicle. "It's just a ploy to get _you _to go where _he_ wants. Understand?"

TR's eyes widened under his sunglasses. "Behind you!"  
JK jumped around. When he did, his heart was perfectly positioned in front of a weird spring-loaded crossbow built into the front of the RV. "Oh, KUH-RAP."

Patrick didn't hesitate to fire it. He took a swig from a water bottle as he watched JK get staked in the chest. Poor TR just started with a deer-in-headlights look on his face.

JK looked down at the stake and his slowly disintegrating arms. "That's… not going fast enough! If I'm going down this early in my after life, be damned if I didn't do it MYSELF!" Upon his last word, he thrust his own stake deeper into his chest, and that was it for him.

Pete finally came up, bruised but just fine. He looked at the pile of dust, then to Patrick. Smiling, he mouthed _MY opponent! Fuck you! _Then he turned and ran toward the other two fights going on before Patrick had time to respond. Patrick assumed by the way Pete ditched him and the other VFBI agent that he was expected to take care of TR, which couldn't be too hard.

Before Andy could think of something new and unique to do while fighting Agent AL, Pete came up from behind and pinned her arms to the sides. "HEY! YOU CHEATED! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! THIS IS SUCH EFFING DIRTY FIGHTING! WHAT ARE YOU, A MOVIE VILLAIN?"

"You don't have to yell! I'm right behind you!" Pete said. "And as for fighting dirty, we don't try to do it too much, but we're short on time for the first time in a while! And also, grow up! Sometimes to win you have to play dirty!"

Andy nodded. "The same applies to the business world, you know."

Pete struggled as the agent tried to get away. "Uh, Andy, anytime now!"

"Right! I'm on it! Ri-IIIGHHHT!" Andy was interrupted when Joe was heaved on top of him.

Agent AL made the next move, breaking away from Pete and elbowing him in the nose (breaking it). She saluted Agent SJ. "Thank you, boss."

He didn't smile or return the salute. "You take care of the other two, they seem less _competent_."

"I'm _so_ on it."

"Not so fast!" Joe said to her. "You're outnumbered. Plus Andy's got two rapiers. If I were you, I'd consider ending this quickly."

She took off her sunglasses, put her hands on her small hips, and scowled at him. "What do you seriously think I'm going to say?"

"Fine. Be that way."

Just as Andy tried to stab forward at her with one of her rapiers, she swiftly backhanded his hand, sending his first rapier flying.

Andy shot Joe a look. "_Thanks_, Joe. That was so _well-executed_."  
"…Shut up."

Across the parking lot, Patrick had stepped out of the RV, convinced that TR was still in too much of a shock to fight back much. Patrick loaded a simple crossbow as he neared TR. "This should take care of it."

Just as Patrick aimed the crossbow a couple feet away from the agent's chest, his opponent sprang to life and kicked the crossbow, sending it straight up into the air. "HEY! Were you just about to kill me when I was in a funk?!"

Patrick at first looked surprised by the attack, but then scowled his normally friendly features at Agent TR. "Newsflash, kid. DON'T go into a funk in the middle of a fight."

"Don't call me kid! I'm your age!"

"How long have you been a vampire?"

TR was silent at this. He turned down the corners of his mouth and fluffed his black suit jacket with a huff.

Pete, meanwhile, smirked at Agent SJ. At least this guy looked like an opponent that might last longer, one that might know what the hell he's doing. "So. How's it going?"

He answered Pete by punching him in the face.

"OH! Crap! Well, I was only trying to be nice, dammit, you don't have to get all indignant on me!" The force of the punch clearly had no effect on Pete. He just got up and straightened out the bridge of his nose, ignoring the dark spots on his hoodie.

The senior agent was in no mood for this kind of thing. "You're going down, little man."  
"Little man? Is that really-" Pete was cut off when the agent lifted him up, similar to the way he did it to Joe, and piledrived him.

When he was let go, Pete lay limp on the ground, just a little bit of blood collecting next to his forehead. Within a few seconds, he jerked and lifted himself up, groaning in pain.

_How can I win this?_

_Possibility: Keep going at him._

_Weakness: I think he may be winning as far as that goes._

_Possibility: Switch opponents with the other two._

_Weakness: If I switch an opponent with somebody one more time I think my head will explode._

_Possibility: The bigger they are, the harder they fall._

_Weakness: What the hell does that mean, anyway?_

_Possibility: Trick him. Improvise. Get help. All of the above._

_Dammit, whatever._

Pete wiped at the blood on his forehead. He looked up at the agent, pondering the best way to do this. Pete cautiously took a wooden stake out from his hoodie's pocket. Then, hoping for the element of surprise, he dashed as fast as he could towards Agent SJ, then right past him.

"Stop!" Andy shouted. He was tugging on the handle of his rapier. Agent AL also had her hands locked around it. They were both tugging on it.

"Let go!" She gave it a yank.

"That's not yours!" Joe was tugging on her by the back of her blazer, but she ignored him.

"Quit it!" Andy again.

"Make me!" She threatened.

"Can you fight with your… martial arts or something?!"

She growled. "YOU are all the most immature bunch of men I have ever met! You don't know how to fight, you cheat, you spend half the time screaming! I feel like I'm in a cartoon, or some weird anime, or a half-assed fanfiction or something!"

"We're immature?!" Andy met her recent yank with a harder tug. "Lady, you're the one who was trying to preach earlier about not fighting heroically or something in the middle of a life-or-death fight! You lost one of your agents already, do you know this?! And also, YOU'RE the one who started this tug-fest!"

"Well, I was right earlier!" She finally let go. Joe let go and stepped away from her for a moment. "You did cheat. You did play dirty. And I will never hold respect for someone who-"  
Pete's stake came into her heart from behind.

She looked shocked and bled as fast as she disintegrated. She looked at Pete, wide-eyed.

Pete tried to disguise his smile. "I just went there."

She scowled. "BITE ME," And on that note, she was gone.

"Good one!" Andy held up his hand to high five Pete.

Pete smiled but ignored the high five, as he an image to preserve. "I'm hoping that this a nice little bit of foreshadowing or something. Perhaps things are going my way these days…?"

Joe, standing next to Andy, opened his mouth to add something to the conversation. But he was interrupted when Agent SJ grabbed their heads from behind and smacked them together (cheesy cartoon violence much?). Pete was surprised enough that he wasn't able to do anything before Agent SJ punched him in the face, hard enough that he went down. "Time to FUCKING finish this!" Just as Pete was able to prop himself up on his elbows. But perhaps things were going his way these days; the much taller agent obstructing his view of the moon was ran over by the RV.

Patrick stuck his hat-covered head out the window. "You owe me twice. Consider yourself our chauffeur until our next destination."

"Ouch, my head…" Andy said. "Déjà vu, man."  
Pete grinned (a crooked grin now). Corny as it was, he was rather proud of Patrick, who was _on_ today. "Aw, screw you and your theatrics. Where's yours?"

Patrick nodded towards the top of the RV, where TR was. He was gripping it for dear life, but he must have realized that it came to a stop, because he crawled to the front and looked down at Patrick. Patrick quickly shut the window beside the driver's seat and sat back down, away from TR's immediate view.

The agent stood up and jumped up and down. "Get OUT of there! GET OUT! COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"  
"Uh…" Patrick eyed the controls again. "Come back later, I'm doing the dishes!"  
"STOP YOUR MOVIE-QUOTING AND FIGHT ME, YOU DUMB MORTAL!" Upset now, he gave the top of the windshield a hard whack and a spiderweb-like crack shot across it.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Pete rose himself up again, having staked the second to last agent. "Don't damage the car, kid!"

"Don't call me KID!" He jumped off the RV, and struck a pose, obviously proud of himself for having jumped off so well (oh, _so_ well). "My team will take you down!"  
Joe snickered. "Where are they?"

TR opened his mouth, prepared to respond as he looked around, only seeing Pete, Andy, and Joe. He ran around the RV, checking to see if they were elsewhere in the parking lot. Then he ran back towards the vigilantes just as Patrick stepped down from the large vehicle (he was short enough that it was a jump for him). TR looked around again. "Impossible. What did you do? Some kind of illusion?" He shot an accusing look at Patrick, whom he had now recognized to be the one most likely to pull that kind of thing. Patrick shook his head. TR then looked at Pete, the only vampire and therefore the only other one who was even remotely able to do that kind of thing. Pete just scowled back at him.

"You can look at us accusingly too, you know," Andy pointed out.

But he was ignored. The VFBI agent continued to whip his head around, his dark mop of wavy hair desperate to keep up. "I don't believe this!" He still looked angry. Pete stepped toward him, ready to attack him before TR did the honors. But he instantly realized that TR wasn't exactly angry when he made his next move. "Nooo! Now I'm all alone! … Oh shit, I'm all alone!" He covered his head with his arms and crouched down towards the cold cement. "Awww, man. Awww, come on. No. No. No."

"Are you okay?" Pete asked the stupid question. He knew the answer.

TR now sat down. "Aw man, this wasn't supposed to happen! This is not what I wanted! I didn't even like them, but I didn't, like, want them to die! Now I'm all alone! Nooo! Dammit. My mom made me join, I never even wanted this!" He looked up at the vigilantes. "Well?"  
"Well what?" Andy responded.

TR looked at the ground. "Look, don't screw with me anymore, okay? You won. The other three are dead. You don't have to gloat. Just… go ahead and kill me."

The other four exchanged glances in a continuous motion. They decided on something that they didn't even need a huddle for. Pete spoke for them. "Dude, get up. We aren't going to kill you."

"Oh COME ON! This is cruel, man. Just do it." He stood up and held out his arms and thrust his chest out. "Come on, I've already accepted it. Hurry before I think about too much stuff and get all, you know, _not_ _over it_."

Pete snickered. "You have a way with words. Go away. We aren't going to kill you."

Agent TR now crossed his arms protectively over his chest. "What?"

Patrick took over. "We aren't going to kill you like this. It's not fair. It almost looks like you were never on board with this whole mission in the first place or something. Whatever the situation, you're not exactly a villain."

TR stared back at him. His black sunglasses, though a little lopsided, still obscured most of his emotion. But his expression _had_ changed.

Joe made a little scurrying motion with his fingers. "If you run along to your little VFBI base or whatever the hell and put in a good word for us, we'll let you live."  
"Why are you having so much trouble with this?" Pete asked.

Andy just silently stared at TR, waiting to see his reaction.

TR swallowed and started to walk away at a slow pace. It seemed that he still thought they were going to attack him. "Okay. Uh. Thanks. Thank you." Once a few paces away, he turned back around and gave them a look with a hint of suspicion. But Pete just gave him a 'get-on-with-it' look and Agent TR nodded and smiled. But he turned all the way around to face them and took off his sunglasses. Bright blue eyes were hidden underneath them. "Okay, no, seriously. Thank you. I regret having not discouraged our chasing after you. You're not that bad."

"We just haven't shaved in too long," Joe agreed.

"But you _do_ have posters up…"

Patrick cringed. "Yeah, we knew that. I don't know about them…" He gestured to the other three. "But it scares the hell out of me."

TR gave him an understanding smile. "When I get back to the base, I'll see what I can do about having them taken down, or at least the prices cut. My name's Tyson, by the way."

"Thank you Tyson, and we'll put in a good word for you, too." Pete said.

Tyson couldn't resist snickering as he walked away, his head half-turned toward them. "Good word with who?"

"We know people." This much was true.

Tyson nodded and smiled again, walking out of the parking lot. The vigilantes had no idea where he was going, and he didn't really know, either.

"He's kinda nice," Andy said as he stretched.

"Yeah, but he's a bit of a loser," Joe argued. "Come on, let's go."

"WE… AREN'T… DONE HERE!"

"Eep!" Patrick yelped as he watched the entire front half of the R.V. lifted up, with S.J. beneath it. He was shakily holding it up with both hands, his glasses crushed into his face and tire tracks decorating his dusty suit.

"I… am here to IMPOSE THE SANCTITY OF GOVERNMENT on your SKINNY ASSES!" S.J. yelled. "I refuse to be made a mockery of this way!" Snapping noises were heard from his arms and he coughed up some blood, but he didn't drop the R.V.'s front half. "Now you will surrender, or you will FACE THE… what are you doing?" Pete pulled out a stake and ran forward. "Get BACK you EMOHE-" he was cut off as Pete drove the stake deep into S.J.'s heart, and jumped back to avoid the R.V. falling back down as the vampiric agent collapsed and disintegrated.

"Well, that was impressive," Joe said. "I wonder if Sorel can lift the front half of our R.V."

* * *


	21. Watch Your Back

**I sent this chapter in ASAP because it's so short. I figured I'd be GOOD about updating for once.**

**Big fight finale starts next chapter. Then there will be that alternate ending I'm sure I've mentioned before, which will be discussed further when the time comes.**

**The unicorn poo thing was inspired by a T-shirt of mine.**

* * *

Andy pulled back a little curtain on the RV window, reaching over the table to do so. It was a lovely night out, about eight PM, brisk and cool and dry with late winter lightness in the air. They were in some slightly mountainous area, in an odd clearing made mostly of dry and dirty ground, but forests were visible in the distance. "It's so awesome out. No wayyy." Andy said, grinning. "Yeah?" He turned to Pete.

Pete turned his scowl to the window and shrugged, but smiled just a bit upon making eye contact with Andy. Then he turned away, giving Andy a chance to look him over. It was his usual look, dark hair shadowing part of his face, hands in the pocket of a hoodie (red today), slouch. Usual pale skin, skinny body, dark bags under his eyes. _Ew, how long has he looked this sickly? Oh well, good thing the cure's found. _"Do you see him?"

In response to this, Pete leaned over and looked out the window. "Uh, no."

"What other ingredients do you think went into the cure?" Andy was trying to keep a lighthearted mood.

"Pixie dust," Pete half-smiled.

"Glitter," Andy agreed.

"Confetti,"

"Unicorn poo,"

Pete actually laughed.

Patrick walked by them with a plastic bag. "He's here. Let's go." Joe quickly followed him, also with a plastic bag.

Andy bounded after them as Pete lifted himself out of the booth. Pete took one last glance around the inside of the RV before stepping out.

Patrick, Joe, and Andy were lined up the side of the RV. Pete joined them. He stared straight ahead, putting on a face that was as stark and blank as possible. "Hi."

The Dark Priest nodded. "Excuse my rudeness, but I was hoping we could skip the formalities for tonight. I'm going to guess that you don't mind…?"

Pete nodded in the same way he did.

Patrick looked between the two. "Here's our half of the ingredients," Patrick stepped forward and handed the priest his bag, and Joe did the same. "We did our half."

The Dark Priest emptied all the bags carefully and set them out in a perfect line. He fingered them all, inspecting them, the sage, the vampire blood, the wine. Finally, after a couple minutes, he looked up. "Very good." He turned to his side, where he had the materials for a fire ready on a small, brushed about plot of dirt. He put the Yule log he had been given just now on the plot and started a fire. The four vigilantes sat in a simultaneous motion, waiting patiently for the fire to start. Once the small batch of flames was going strong, he put the ingredients carefully in a large metal pot he had brought with him. It was not a fairy tale wicked with style cauldron, just a normal kitchen pan, contrary to what the other four men had pictured. He added some plain water to the mixture, and a few slips of something the others couldn't see. Pete was trying to lean forward to see exactly what it was. He couldn't, and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and crossed his arms.

The priest set it over the fire. "We have to wait for it to come to a boil, then let it go for a few minutes."

"How long exactly?" Patrick was quick to ask. His eyes were invisible under the shadow of his denim cap's brim.

"It doesn't really matter, but five minutes should be sufficient, one or two minutes would not be enough and nine and ten are too much."

Patrick nodded and bit his thumbnail.

"When that's done, we'll take it off the heat and strain the solid ingredients. Would you like to take it first, Peter?" he asked Pete.

Pete had his eyes fixed on the pot. Hearing someone speak prompted him to look up. "Huh? My name's not Peter. What?"

"Will you be taking the cure first?"

"Oh, it's ready? Really? That was… fast."

The priest just blinked, his eyes only partly shadowed by his dark brown bowler hat. "If you have doubts, I don't mind being the first."

"Yeah, you do it." Narrowing his eyes, Pete pretended to pass off his nervousness as suspicion.

The Dark Priest adjusted the position of the pot on the stove. It had barely come to a boil. "Now that it's coming to a-"

SHUNK.

Patrick was the first to jerk backwards and yell out a yelp as they all looked toward the source of the noise, the Dark Priest's chest. A bloodied stake was sticking out, with bits of something else on it.

He looked down at it as he slowly began to fade away at his hands. "How sacrilegious. I really should have prepared some last words."

The other four just looked behind him.

Amy, dressed in an elaborate black lace dress, winked at them. "You must admit that was a good shot."

* * *


	22. Dead On Arrival: Part 1

**Remember when I mentioned there being an alternate ending to this fic? Right, well, the "first ending" officially starts in this chapter. Yes, they're both multiple chapters. I could understand if you wouldn't want to read both, so if it pleases you, you could always just consider these next few chapters the last ones. Or maybe the other ending is more up your alley. **

**So to help you choose your conclusion based on your personal tastes, I'd like to remind you that the ending starting now is the more optimistic one that possibly sacrifices total closure. The one that will be posted after this one will be quite the melancholy one but I think it offers more closure.**

**I'll let you know when this ending is done and the other will be posted afterwards. To help you distinguish the endings from each other, the endings (as sets) themselves will have different names, but the individual chapters within will be called parts.**

**I'm****probably confusing the hell out of you. When the time comes for the second ending, don't worry, I'll try to clarify more.**

* * *

**Dead On Arrival: Part One

* * *

**

"Do you want to make the first move or should I?" Amy asked the others, ignoring the looks of pure shock. "It feels so much like chess! 'White or black?' Oh, what fun!"

The other four just stare at either her or the ashes of the Dark Priest, mostly shock with a few other emotions blended in.

"Oh, come on. Someone has to do something! I do not want to get bored. You wouldn't like me when I'm bored."

"If you don't mind my asking…" Pete began, rising and subtly stepping in front of his precious cure, began. "Why did you do that?"

She stared with a blank, white face and icy blue eyes. "Do I need a reason?

"YES!" He ran towards her.

"WAIT, what's that?" she asked, creating a little shield of her black energy just where his head was arriving. His skull met it with a CLONK (he didn't know how he expected the energy to feel, but cold, slick and very hard probably wasn't it). As he crouched and clutched his cranium with a groan as she walked diagonally to him and Patrick, Joe, and Andy. She tilted her head to the side and put her hands on her fitted black lace-covered hips and watched as a sleek, black van pulled up.

The doors of the van slid open and the four men inside stepped out, one by one.

"OH no!" Patrick blurted.

"What are the odds of this?" Jared scanned the four vigilantes with his eyes, their icy blue color similar to Amy's.

"Oh! Let me figure this one out!" Tomo whipped out a little notepad, pen and calculator. "I haven't had a good one in five weeks, three days."

Pete bit his thumbnail and resisted the urge to curl up into the fetal position and shout his head off, and then run with the cure into the van and drive off until he was five hundred miles away and shout some more. Because this was _so_ not going according to plan. But wait, what did he expect anyway? _I expected, tonight, to just take the cure and awaken in the morning as a fresh mortal._ If he pondered it, he had to ask himself… was that realistic? He always had the worst luck. _Oh SHIT. What am I thinking? What was I ever thinking?! When does this kind of good thing happen to me anyway? That's right. It doesn't. Dammit, did I seriously expect this to go off without a hitch? What's wrong with me?_

"Are you having an episode or are you going to do something?" Tim asked them.

Andy looked at the others. Seeing no responses, he took out his two rapiers, which he had obviously kept on his person for a situation like this (or maybe Patrick had advised him to do so). "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm doing something." This was, of course, a decent plan because Andy knew fully well that the others would not let him launch himself alone into a fight with five other vampires.

"Wait… do you want to kill them?" Amy asked Jared.

"We most certainly do." He kept his face emotionless. He didn't want her to pick up on what he was thinking because he was unable to do so to her right now. And he _most certainly _didn't want her to find out that they were, in fact, only supposed to capture Pete and the others, and bring them back alive.

"You can't do that. I'm doing that."

Shannon faced her. "You are not killing them. _We_ are killing them. We're being paid to do so; it's our job."

"I don't give a tea cake if that's your job!"

Tim turned to Tomo. "'Tea cake'?"

"Tea cake. I don't like tea cakes." She explained, putting her hands on her hips again. "It may be your job, but I'm out for revenge, sort of, so… um… I'm going to kill them and that's final!" Now she stomped her foot.

"Would you like us to give you a cut of our pay?" Jared tried negotiating.

"Have you forgotten about us?" Joe asked.

"_Shut up a minute!_" Amy ordered him. "I don't want money! I have money! I want to kill Peter! Look, I'll just settle for Peter. You can have the others."

"My name's not Peter!" Pete stepped closer to their face-off.

"Pete's the one we really need!" Jared ran a hand through his ink black hair. It was unnaturally shiny. He must have been quite the deep conditioner. "I'll make a deal with you."

"I DON'T WANT A DEAL!" Unlike her brother, who would frown at the notion of an outburst, Amy didn't mind resorting to screaming to get her way. This was probably due to the fact that because of her clout in the vampire world, she had gotten used to getting things without negotiating or asking more than once.

"How about we kill them for you, and you just sit back and watch? You don't have to get your hands dirty, and you can even tell us how you want it to be done."

Now she narrowed her eyes in thought. This was actually considerable. Getting her hands dirty was half the fun, but oh, how she loved people doing work for her! "Fine."

"Thanks. We'll put on a show." Jared turned to Pete. "Trust me, it's nothing personal. You want to make the first move?"

"Screw you!"

"I think it's about time to take this off the boil now," Andy said, taking the pot off the fire and placing it carefully on a small, flat boulder that the Dark Priest may have been using as a seat.

"Very well then." Jared tossed his katana into the air in a high, lazy arc that looked to Pete like it was passing through the moon as it headed toward him. Pete jumped back a few feet, avoiding the spot where the sword would land, and looked down to see Jared approaching fast and low in a sprint. Jared jumped, caught the sword in midair just before it hit the ground, and sliced at Pete's neck level. Pete ducked under the wide slash, and threw his elbow forward, bouncing Jared backward thru the air. Jared did most of a flip, landing on his toes and his empty hand, and pounced back forward. Pete didn't expect him to recover so fast, and could only dodge a few vertical sword slashes.

Finally, Jared stabbed the sword at Pete's chest, and Pete dodged around to Jared's side. He kicked the sword from Jared's hand, and slammed his fist into Jared's jaw, causing it to give a loud crack and knocking him back. Pete reared back for another strong right, but Jared opened his mouth wide (causing a few drops of blood to pour out and exposing four pearly white fangs) and shrieked. The sound was like nothing Pete had ever heard before; it was like the blackboard had been shattered and the fingernails were digging holes in his brain so the pieces could be buried there. Pete shuddered in place and flopped to the ground like a prize trout, right down to the gasping for breath and the wet face (he had broken out in a cold sweat).

"What the hell was that?" Patrick asked. He hadn't taken it head on like Pete had, but definitely noticed it (kind of hard not to).

"Do you like it?" Jared asked.

"No, why the hell would I like-"

"It's my own special ability. It's a sonic scream thing. It took a total of eighteen hours, fifteen minutes, and nine seconds to master."

Patrick just stared at him.

"It's a very good technique."

"Aaaahhh…" Pete was on his knees with his hands over his ears.

"Help, help, help, help…" Andy shouted as he hopped along one leg. Through some fluke he ended up with his left foot in a tangle, caught above his two rapiers, which were being held above his head by Tomo. Tomo was trying to push him forward and off his feet (foot), leaving Andy constantly hopping backwards.

Patrick reached in his pocket for a stake, but just as he pulled it back, Shannon came up from behind and pinned his arms behind his back. The crossbow dropped to the ground. "Oh CRAP! Bad day!" Patrick didn't bother hiding his emotions, considering that it was already painfully obvious that they didn't come that day prepared for the worst case scenario.

But that exact moment was not even the worst case scenario.

A distant roar of motorcycles, lost on the ears that were too busy fighting, was now close enough that even Pete (with his now slightly damaged ears) could hear it. "W-what's that?" He shakily pulled himself to his feet, hands on his throbbing head. "That can't possibly be what I-…"

Pete trailed off when the worst case scenario, followed closely by Mikey and Gerard, pulled up on his chopper. "What… the hell is this?"

Jared just stared at him. For once, he did not factor this into the equation.

Joe and Tim stood off to the side, both standing still in shock, mouths agape. Joe was pulling Tim's hair and Tim was pulling Joe's ear. Joe's eyes jumped from Sorel, to Gerard, to Mikey, to Sorel. "Uh, when did that get there?"

Jared hid his shock. "I was not expecting you this soon, sir."

Sorel snorted. "Obviously not! Look at this! You haven't done a freaking thing besides play kiddy games!"

"These are hardly kiddy games!" Pete said. "My equilibrium hurts."

Amy jumped up from where she was sitting about twenty away, cross-legged on the dusty ground. "Hey! What are you doing here? This is my show." She paused to brush off her skirt. "You weren't invited."

"What am _I_ doing here?" Sorel asked her in disbelief of both her attitude and presence in the first place.

"_Your_ show?" Gerard added.

"If this is anyone's show, it's mine! I'm paying for it!" Sorel gestured to the bounty hunters. "Those idiots are my hired help, and they're doing a shitty job!"

"But they said they were going to kill Peter and those other annoying guys for me!"

"My name's not Peter!"

"My arms hurt!" Patrick complained.

"My scalp hurts!" Tim said.

"My ear hurts!" Joe said.

"My feelings hurt!" Amy stomped her boot. She faced Jared. "You lied to me? You little cockroach!"

"You planned to kill them after all?!" Sorel did the same and stepped closer to Jared. "Cockroach doesn't begin to describe you!"

"We had a deal!" Amy continued.

"We had one first!" Sorel shouted.

"One customer at a time, please…" Jared looked at them blankly.

"I'm not your customer!" Amy argued.

"But I still am!!" Sorel had had enough. Too angry to use his telekinetic powers, he stomped over to his motorcycle and took out his sword. Without another word, he angrily tossed it at Shannon.

Shannon wasn't quick enough to even turn his body around. The sword went through the side of his chest with a sound that was a sickening combination of the _shunk _of the piercing and the _crunch _of the sword going through ribs.

"Uh…" Patrick slipped away from Shannon's now limp arms. He turned around and stared at his now dying opponent.

Shannon's arms evaporated. "Slim to none… guess that was good enough…" On that last note, his upper body had faded away, and soon there was nothing.

Gerard was the first to react. He ran up to Sorel's side. "Why did you do that?! I'm sorry, sir, but what the hell was the reason for that?!"

"To hurry them up…" Sorel trailed off, as if he realized there was something wrong here with his own logic, just as his words left his mouth.

"HOW IS THAT GOING TO HURRY THEM UP?!"

"I've tried this method before! It's not like it's the first time! In fact, I've done it twice before today!"  
Jared was silent as he swallowed.

"Did it work the other two times?" Gerard demanded.

Pete shrugged at Patrick.

Sorel cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, they didn't, um, _work_ per se…"

"WHY DID YOU THINK IT WOULD WORK NOW?!"

"Practice makes perfect!" Sorel weakly defended himself. "Screw it, I need beer. I haven't had a drink since we burned Purity to the ground."

Gerard let out a strangled cry of frustration.

Mikey had a little Gameboy that he was playing with the entire time this conversation went on. "Gerard killed what now? Gimme a sec, guys, I've almost beaten the Elite Four."

Tim stepped away from Joe and now looked to Jared for a cue of what to do next. He caught Tomo's eye, who then did the same.

Jared stood with his head bowed, his glossy dark locks shielding his face. "That was my brother."

Gerard swallowed nervously.

Now Mikey lowered his video game and looked from Jared to Sorel.

Sorel nodded. "It was also his paycheck. You're not getting his pay even if you do what you were supposed to. Your pay has been docked greatly even if you disregard this. I suggest you get to work."

Jared looked up at Sorel. Tears were glistening in his eyes. Mikey looked away out of embarrassment for Jared, who finally spoke. "Our next course of action will be mutiny."

Sorel gave a little laugh and look of amusement and disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"We will now be attacking you," Tomo clarified. "Count down-"

"You mean T-minus?" Mikey asked, smirking.

Sorel waved his hand to silence Mikey and hissed to him, "No more clever dialogue!"

"-Three seconds."

Pete sneered at the situation at hand, unsure of what primary emotion he felt about it.

Patrick crossed his arms and looked at the ground, looking somewhat sad for Jared.

Joe rubbed his ear and looked at Andy.

Andy looked at Joe and cleared his throat.

Sorel laughed hysterically.

Mikey looked nervous as he put his Gameboy away.

Gerard cracked his knuckles and rolled his eyes with a here-we-go-again look on his face.

Just as Jared, Tomo, and Tim all took their first step toward Sorel in perfect time, Amy turned to Pete, Patrick, Joe and Andy. "Hellooo!"

* * *


	23. Dead On Arrival: Part 2

**Ugh, ugh, ugh, slow as molasses updates. If it makes you feel better, this story is my first priority for when my spring break rolls around. I'm feeling kind of stressed lately, but now I'm making up excuses, so I'll stop whining now.**

**And if it makes you feel better people die in this chapter.**

**No idea why that would make you feel better. **

**Plus: avatarjk137 did a lot of Jared's stuff. Seems he wanted to.**

**Dead On Arrival: Part Two**

"I wonder if I should just kill you all or do something a little more stylized, like, say…" Amy paused and looked up in thought, squinting one eye shut. "Maybe I could sort of kill one and leave him brain-dead, and then turn another into a vampire! And of course, kill the other two." She smiled, showing her molars, as if to say _Isn't this great?!_

"Better idea," Joe put his hands behind his back and paced a bit. He was able to play her game, and it just made it all the more fun for her, evident in the way she smiled slightly at him as he paced, not moving her eyes away once. She clutched her black lace dress in anticipation. "How about Pete kills you, just like he did your brother, to make an accomplishment out of it? Heirloom kinda thing, you know?"

She sneered. "That doesn't sound fun to me!" (As if _her_ idea sounded fun to _them_.)

"Screw this game-playing!" Pete tossed a stake her way.

"Eek!" She deflected it just in time. "OH MY GOD, THAT ALMOST HIT MY FACE! ARE YOU CRAZY?"

He ran towards her. "You're a little slow on the uptake!"

She threw spirals of her black energy up from the ground and around his legs. But once he was incapacitated, Andy had already nearly jumped on her. She grabbed him by the wrists to prevent his swords from getting to her. She managed to flip him over her head. Athletic, he landed on his feet and one hand and was able to turn right back around and attack. She noticed this out of her peripheral vision, because now her focus was on Joe, who was running towards her with a fist aimed at her midsection. Just as she formed a triple-the-normal-size fist of black energy around her fist to meet his, he ducked and Pete jumped up from behind him. "PEEKABOO!"

She gasped in shock. Perfect opportunity for him. He brought a fist down swiftly on her head, sending her face into the ground. Growling, she shot her foot upwards and kicked him in the chin. She thrust her head up, headbutting Joe in the stomach and sliding back on the ground.

Once she came up, Patrick shot a net gun at her. She made a large shield to deflect it. But once that was over with, Andy had since fully recovered. She wasn't losing, but she couldn't help thinking about how hard it was to fight against more than one person at once.

* * *

Sorel addressed Mikey and Gerard. "Beating up these morons shouldn't be too hard. When you're done with that, I want you to follow my lead and move on to Pete and those other three morons. This'll go fast, so like I said, follow my lead. Amy's also a moron; beating her shouldn't be hard, either. Damn, I wish I wasn't surrounded by morons!"

"You have us!" Mikey grinned.

"You're right, I do have Gerard. Enough of this chitchat. Let's get a move on!"

"Yes, please," Jared said. "I'd like to defeat you now."

"You know what?" Sorel asked. "I'm sick of looking at your PRETTY FACE!" On the last words, he used his power to raise up a dusty rock and toss it at Jared, hitting him square in the face.

Jared was down but not out, and Tim and Tomo were there to back him up. They charged Gerard and Mikey. Gerard tried to jump out of the way and attack from the side. Mikey just met his opponent with arms out. Mikey grabbed Tomo's shoulders and attempted to spin him off balance, but Tomo used his own weight in the tussle and they collided into Mikey's motorcycle. It went toppling over, and Tomo pinned Mikey on the ground.

Gerard turned his attention there and ran over to help Mikey. But Tim didn't let him get away and tackled him. Now he had Gerard pinned on his stomach.

"We got you both pinned at once? What are the odds of that?"

"Wait, I don't have my calculator available!" Tim struggled for his in his back pocket. "Got it!" He held it in front of his chest and tapped on it like a teenager text-messaging. But his smile disappeared when Sorel's sword went straight through his chest and the calculator.

Tomo stared at Tim in shock. Tim looked up, intact long enough to shout out, "Tell Jared his odds of getting revenge just went wayyy down!" before he was gone.

"What was that?!" Jared asked Tomo, turning around to face him.

Bad mistake, because Sorel was right behind him to kick him in the side of the head. "Crap! You suck today!"

"He's not the only one!" Tomo shouted to Sorel. He was, of course, referring to the wooden stake Mikey had driven through his heart.

Sorel smiled, showing off his oversized fangs. "Okay, you two. Go over to where the other five people are jumping around. Fight those two that are…" Sorel paused. "… uh! Andy and Joe! That's their names. Right the first time! Alright! Right, fight them."

"What, again?" Gerard commented.

"I'm on it!" Mikey said. "Hey wait, where'd my gun-sword thingy go?" He hopped over towards his vehicle and searched the area around it.

Gerard, still with the same expression, put two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Please say you didn't break it just now. I JUST bought you that when we-"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Gerard, I found it." Mikey quickly thrust it upwards (possibly forgetting the sword attached to it).

Sorel sighed and turned to Jared, looking bothered. "Are you going to give up now, or will this take effort?"

"Give up? Give up?!" Jared was practically foaming at the mouth. "I'm going to _slice your drunk, telekinetic, indiscriminately murdering, IMPOLITE FACE into a thousand pieces!_"

"I'd like to see you try it!" Sorel shot back. "I'm not drunk _yet!_"

"AHH!" Jared leapt forward with shocking speed and slashed at Sorel, who blocked with his own blade. Jared then unleashed a flurry of slashes on Sorel, forcing him to let some through. The slashes Sorel couldn't block left small cuts along his arms and legs. "You're going to die, and then your friends are going to die, and then those other guys might die, I haven't decided!" Jared raved. "And then I'm going to cry for my brother and friends, and then I'll go get some hot chocolate to make me feel better!"

"Shut UP!" Sorel lifted Jared into the air telekinetically, but Jared screamed at him, causing Sorel to stagger and clutch his head as he lost control of his power. Jared dropped back down and tried to run Sorel through with his katana, but Sorel brought up his sword, shattering Jared's. "I'm so sick of you guys! Why must hired help be so difficult?!" Sorel yelled, telekinetically lifting shards of Jared's sword to throw at him.

"I'll show you difficult!" Jared backflipped and dodged most of the shards, except for one that removed part of his left ear. He didn't even flinch, and grabbed Tim and Tomo's katanas. "Normally I charge extra for this," he snarled, crossing the Japanese blades in front of him as he charged his former employer.

* * *

"I am in hell!" Amy spat, a fang exiting her mouth too. "Why are you giving me so much TROUBLE?!" She had been knocked back on her butt and now pounded the ground with her fists, as if to throw a tantrum. Small little dirt clouds puffed up.

"Are you okay?" Andy asked with a blank face.

"Players two and three!" A voice said from behind him.

"Huh?!" Andy faced the voice.

"ENGAGE!" Mikey gave him a swift left hook.

"HEY!" Joe protested. "Cheap shot!"

"Cheap but effective!" Mikey raised his index finger in defense.

Andy spat a tooth out and stood up, unfazed except for a line of blood on his chin. "Players one and two engage? Are you going to use video game references this entire time?"

"I don't want to play this game anymore…" Amy mumbled.

"But I'm just getting started," Gerard said.

* * *

"It seems you can't deal with this!" Jared snarled, whipping the blades around him in a storm of sharp edges as he forced Sorel back. Sorel's swordsmanship just plain wasn't as developed as Jared's, and whenever Sorel tried to use telekinesis, Jared would scream to disrupt it. Jared slashed the sword in his left low, and Sorel stumbled as a tendon in his ankle was severed. "You can't break me down, Sorel!" Jared slashed downward, but Sorel launched himself forward with his good leg and knocked his mercenary foe back. As Jared regained his footing, Sorel pressed his advantage by swinging his sword in a big, heavy overhand swing. Jared sidestepped and brought one katana whipping across Sorel's forehead, nearly blinding him. "I'm finished with you!"

"Shut YOUR TRAP!" Sorel reached forward and grabbed Jared by his neck, swinging him in a complete circle before driving his face into a dried-out tree stump. Jared stumbled back to his feet, but Sorel kicked him in the back, causing Jared to sprawl over the stump with his head hanging over the far end. Sorel pinned Jared down with one foot (pressing the air from his lungs) and pivoted around him, bringing his sword up in a position to behead him. "Now hold still, I've done this before a few times. I'll make it quick and clean!"

Jared responded by reaching behind him and hacking at the leg that clamped him down, allowing him to roll free. "I won't!" he spat, jumping forward and swinging his left-hand blade in an attempt to behead Sorel. Sorel blocked with his own sword, but Jared laughed and slammed his other katana toward Sorel's chest. Sorel grabbed Jared's

As for you…" He lifted and clenched his hands, and Jared fell to his knees, gasping. "Not so tough with your ribs puncturing your lungs, are you? Not much of a screamer anymore. That means it's time to wrap this up!" He slammed his own blade through Jared's heart, and slung him back over his head, sending a cloud of ashes arcing through the air.

* * *


	24. Dead On Arrival: Part 3

**Dead On Arrival: Part Three**

"How's life as a lackey?" Joe asked Gerard, punctuating his sentence with a kick aimed at Gerard's chin.

"I should ask you the same thing," Gerard leaned back to dodge it with ease. "You act as if you have much more freedom than I do." When he came back, he grabbed one of Joe's fists (aimed at his head) and attempted a high kick to Joe's head in return.

"I do!" Joe protested. He dodged Gerard's blow. "You won't leave Sorel's side 'cause you're scared. I've always had the option to leave Pete's side, since he became a vamp. I didn't though. That'd make me an ass." He kicked Gerard's torso.

Joe's foot barely scraped his side, and it didn't affect Gerard. "So you're scared too, of what other people would think of you thinking for yourself for once?" He tried a few quick blows at Joe, but Joe blocked or dodged them all.

"Stop playing mind games with me! I'm not going to not fight you today!" Joe elbowed him in the chest. Gerard cringed and stumbled back a bit. "Your mind games suck today anyway."

"Are we forgetting about me?" Amy asked, receiving no answer. "I don't like this. Pay attention to me."

"Ooh! I will!" Patrick waved his hand, feigning enthusiasm as he loaded up a crossbow.

"Yay!" Amy pulled up some shadows, and formed them into the shape of a creature. It had rounded ears, large fangs, four clawed paws, and a thrashing tail. "Rich people need exotic pets," she said with a smile as she sent her new shadow panther pouncing towards Patrick.

"HOLY CRAP!" Patrick fell on his back to dodge the panther's claws, and shot a crossbow bolt up into the huge creature, disrupting it. Amy waved, and the shadows reformed into a huge hand that grabbed Patrick around the chest and threw him about twenty feet. "PETEPETEPETE ow HELP!" he yelled as he bounced and rolled across the ground.

"What the hell is your problem?" Pete yelled, jumping towards Amy. "You seem plenty happy without your brother!"

"It's the _principle _of the thing!" Amy whined, sending a protrusion of shadow shaped like a ram's head directly into Pete's stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and dropped him to the ground. "You can't just go around _killing people,_ you know!"

--

About seventy feet away, up a hill and behind a cluster of boulders, Shadows fiddled with his humongous, cumbersome weapon. The tip of a silver-inlaid titanium stake (also good against werewolves!) was sticking out of what looked like the barrel of the stake harpoon. "So many vampires. So little time. Gotta snag a couple for myself before they all kill each other. Wouldn't be fun that way."

--

"I get the feeling I should kill somebody else to keep things moving at a good pace," Sorel said to himself. _But who? I could kill the one with the hat…_

_That would be hilarious. But a better time. It would be anti-climactic now… well, SOMETHING should happen!_

"I wish I had a broom, so I could make somebody else sweep this up!!" Amy's voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned around until she came into his view, lifting up her lacy skirt as she stomped on a pile of vampiric ash formerly known as Tomo with one black leather boot.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" Andy spun around three times, two rapiers in hand. "I was just with that Mikey guy. I swung at him a few times. Then he disappeared. Where is he?!"

"I'm sure he's not hiding anymore, you've just taken away any opportunity for him being stealthy." Pete commented with a bored look on his face.

"Hey!" Mikey called out from inside the RV.

"_Hey get outta there!!_" Joe shouted, running towards the RV and away from Gerard.

"GERARD! STOP HIM!" Sorel growled. He was about to bark another order, but Mikey called his name. When he turned to the RV, Mikey tossed him something. He looked at the item he caught. "What's this? Some weird type of booze?" He looked at the little glass bottle of clear liquid.

Mikey squinted from where he was leaning his entire skinny upper half out of one of the RV's windows. "I dunno! I just found it on the counter!"

Sorel took off the metal cap and sniffed it. He shrank back in horror. "Oh, ugh! This is terrible!" With a jolt, he remembered where he had smelled that before. Just to be sure, he glanced at Pete, who had a deer-in-headlights look on his face as he nervously stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket. A grin spread across his face.

--

Pete stared at Sorel, feeling his breath quicken a bit as Sorel shouted, "Ohhh! This is your little magical elixir! How precious!"

"What _is_ that he's got?" Patrick whispered to Pete. It was actually barely a whisper; it was the loudest whisper he had ever heard.

"Nice try, smart ass, but I've been around longer than you have. Long enough to know that there might be a few consequences if I were to do _this_!" Sorel threw the little bottle against the side of the RV, where it burst, sending a wet splatter across that side of the RV.

Mikey smile-gasped in shock, then covered his mouth and snickered. He disappeared from view and popped out of the RV a second later.

"NO!" Pete shouted. He grabbed his head with both hands as his stomach turned. If the cure didn't work, _I am so so so freaking screwed. Sooo screwed. Sooo screwed._ He was panicked enough to consider going over and actually lapping up what was left of it right off the side of the RV, but he wasn't about to give Sorel the satisfaction.

He and everybody else were so busy with their thoughts that no one noticed that Amy was silently dashing over to Sorel, hands outstretched with shadows spiraling out. She was smirking; she had finally found another person to entertain her.

No one also noticed that Shadows had positioned his harpoon gun precisely on their rock. He did get their attention, though, when he shot it with a loud _TWANG _noise.

It was aimed at Sorel's chest. The noise attracted him in time that he made a telepathic shield at the last second.

The stake ricocheted with a crack and went flying up in the air. Spotting opportunity, and Amy, Sorel mentally maneuvered it and shot it diagonally downwards.

"Whaaa!" Amy screeched to a halt. The shadows disintegrated. Before she could even turn around, the stake pierced her chest. "NOOOOO!" she shrieked. In one last fit of anger when she was on the ground, she pounded her fist on the dust and lines of black energy went rippling and cracking through the ground.

Shadows noticed one such line coming towards him, or rather, to his side. It sped through the ground beside him and right under his oversized weapon. The weapon flew upwards and hit him in the head. He fell off the boulder he was sitting on, out cold.

Another line zigzagged across the ground before spearing a motorcycle. It carried the Harley into the air, sending smaller spikes through different parts of the cycle's frame. Finally, twenty feet in the air, the cycle's gas tank was pierced and it exploded.

The third tendril snaked along the ground, before curving back in on itself and knocking Pete's foot out from under him, nearly making him fall on his ass. It then dissipated with no further effect.

"Ouch," Patrick murmured.

"Cool!" Mikey said.

"My bike!" Gerard moaned.

"That was anticlimactic," Pete muttered, checking his shoe for damage.

"Whoaaa!" Andy pointed up in the air. He scrambled backwards.

Sorel had levitated his sword, as well as the four swords the bounty hunters had left behind. He nodded at Gerard and Mikey. "You two just keep to your own business and hurry up and kill those two! I'll take care of these two!"

Gerard and Mikey obediently turned around.

Sorel sent the swords flying back towards the ground.


	25. Dead On Arrival: Part 4

**Another chapter delay? Oh fuck me. You readers are too good for me. Sounds like a breakup, doesn't it? But no, I'm still writing (hard to believe, I know). The good news is that I already have more than half of the next chapter written up. **

**Fall Out Boy news: So I take it by now most of you have heard the engagement news. And baby rumors. Honestly, I guess I'm fine with the marriage since he seems legitimately happy and all that crap but I wish, well, actually, I wish a lot of things, and here's not the best place to go deep into detail about it. One I will tell you though is that I wish them good luck - I doubt they're actually due, but if they are, they need all the luck they can get. Sorry, but they just don't honestly seem like the best parents right now to me. Nice people? Smart people? Fun people? Even caring people? Yes, all that, but Peter Peter Panda, you can only be so wonderful a father whilst on tour. Sorry.**

**/tangent**

**Dead On Arrival: Part Four**

Pete dashed away from Sorel. Sorel may have control over the swords in midair, but at least he presented a moving target. He wasn't even looking where he was going, just running until he was sure all the swords had hit the ground. He didn't stop until he heard a pained yelp from behind him.

Screeching to a halt and whirling around, Pete saw Patrick lying on the ground. "PATRICK!! _Crap_!" He ran over, his knees creating a cloud of dirt when he dropped to the ground.

"Shit shit shit…" Patrick propped himself on one elbow, holding a bleeding wound in his side with the other hand. "Okay. That could have gone better." He shut his eyes in pain. "A lot better."

Pete turned his attention away from Patrick. He grabbed a bloodied sword a couple feet away and tossed it in Sorel's general direction. "You ASSHOLE! You think you're so good with that freakin' levitate-y crap!"

Sorel sidestepped the sword. "Well, that's not threatening at all, by the way, if that's what you were going for. And why are you getting pissed? I thought this was a life and death thing."

"Wait, Pete!" Patrick managed. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, holding his side as blood oozed between his fingers. "Pete, I can take care of it, don't waste your energy in rage. Pete? … Pete!"

Pete approached Sorel.

"I finally get to prove myself better than you," Sorel grinned.

Patrick watched. _Shit. If I could get myself back on the bus somehow… _He looked around the barren ground to see how far away the RV was when some glint caught his eye. He saw some piece of metal and half-stumbled, half-crawled a few feet towards it, annoying a sharp stab of pain in his side and a slight spurt of blood.

It was the still knocked out Shadows and his harpoon gun, lying a fair amount away, but still accessible…

--

Gerard leapt forward with a pair of kicks, but Joe sidestepped both and lunged down and forward, slamming his elbow into Gerard's gut and knocking him to the ground. As Gerard got up, he shifted into a full wolf form, climbing to four paws and leaping forward. Joe sidestepped again and prepared to kick, but Gerard teleported in midair and reappeared to Joe's side. Joe only had time to throw up an arm in defense, and Gerard latched onto it with a snarl, biting and gnawing and generally trying to tear it off. Joe cried out and brought out a stake with his free hand, causing Gerard to let go before Joe could pierce his lupine skull. "Stay still!" Joe yelled out.

Suddenly, Gerard appeared behind Joe in his human form, and grabbed Joe's arms before he could escape. "It's funny… that's also _my _number-one complaint about you!" Joe struggled, but Gerard's vampire strength held. Gerard smiled, revealing his fangs. "A little blood loss should get you to ease up on the struggling!" he opened his mouth wide and prepared to bite down on the back of Joe's neck.

"Oh hell no!" Joe drove his be-froed skull backwards as hard as he could, flattening Gerard's nose with a satisfying crunch. Gerard released his grip to staunch the bleeding, and Joe backflipped over Gerard and kicked him in the back on the way down. "How do you like me _now_?"

"Ndot very mudch…" Gerard replied through the blood on his nose and mouth as he shifted back into his half-wolf form. He howled, teleported behind Joe, howled again, and repeated the process, surrounding Joe with howling.

Joe didn't flinch. "Oh, come on. This is eerie and all, but you've done it before. You can't expect to beat me with _this!_"

"No, I can't." Gerard stopped in front of Joe and spat his own blood, which had trickled into his mouth, with some precision. It got in Joe's eyes and caused him to scream and stumble back. Gerard jumped forward, rolled on the ground, and got just below Joe with his feet facing up. Gerard then extended his body in a kangaroo-style kick, catching Joe hard in the gut and launching him some distance. "But it's a nice distraction, all the same."

--

"Die!" Mikey clashed swords with Andy, who immediately brought up his other rapier to counterattack. He thrusted with them one after another, forcing him back. "_Please_ die?" Mikey offered. Andy just shook his head and kept stabbing forward. "Fine, I'll kill you without your help!" Mikey feinted low, then went with a high horizontal slash. Andy blocked, but Mikey's sturdier blade and vampire strength knocked him a bit off-balance. Mikey pressed his advantage by stabbing forward, but Andrew narrowly dodged the blade and whipped his rapier across Mikey's chest, tearing his black and silver uniform open and drawing some blood. Mikey kicked Andy back and procured something he had been holding in his hand. "Check this out!" he said proudly. It was a tomato.

As Andrew peered at the tomato, successfully distracted, Mikey took the opportunity to throw it in his opponent's face. Andy staggered back and wiped the tomato from his glasses, Mikey pressed his attack, forcing Andrew to fight back while off-balance and with his vision impaired. "Where'd you get a tomato all the way out here?!"

"In your fridge," Mikey replied, still very pleased with himself.

"You bastard! That was half of my next meal!"

"And now it's taking up half of your field of vision!" Mikey grabbed his sword with both hands and swung upwards, knocking Andy's silver rapier away. He began swinging frantically with double-handed slashes, forcing Andy back. In desperation, he began hammering the buttons on his 'trick' rapier. After getting the blade to flash green and quote several songs and movies (while dodging Mikey's attacks), he finally got something new and different to happen.

"_This blade will self-destruct in three… two…"_

"AAUUGH!" Mikey ran away from Andrew and tripped on a rock. Andy just stared at his sword in shock.

"_One… zero… JUST KIDDING!"_

--

* * *


	26. Dead On Arrival: Part 5

**Sorry for delays in updates.**

**The only thing I will say about the Gerard and Mikey scenes is that avatarjk137 wrote them. So sorry if they're sad. He had been waiting to do the scenes with those four for a while. **

**Sorel is stupid. Ha ha. **

**And I hear there was a wedding! Oh, those crazy kids and their Jessica Simpson maids of honor and their adorable bulldog ring bearers!**

**Dead On Arrival: Part Five**

Patrick panted as he continued his slow crawl towards the harpoon gun. He knew his injury was somewhat serious, but he had no idea how much effort he would have had to put into this. It was bad enough that shock and adrenaline from earlier had long since worn off, making the wound legitimately quite painful, but he had to crawl uphill on rocky ground.

Sweat dripped down his face. He tried to stand his upper body up to look around and see how Pete was doing, but when he rose, a little bit of blood made a hideous tiny _spurt_ of out his wound. He let out a yelp of pain and dropped back towards the ground.

Letting Pete take care of it crossed his mind.

_Pete's strong._

Biting his lip, Patrick began moving again. _But not strong enough._

--

"Yah…yah… hiyah!" Joe spun and kicked at Gerard multiple times, but he dodged or blocked every strike. On the last kick, he grabbed Joe by the ankle and hurled him to the ground, then jumped at him with a slash. Joe evaded Gerard's wide attack, and rolled to his feet, dropping a few canisters as he did. The canisters began to leak out a yellow smoke, which Gerard sniffed as he stepped into it.

"It's not garlic," he growled. "Too colorful to be holy water. Not thick enough to keep me from seeing the stake coming. I give up…" he picked up a canister, "what kind of vampire-fighting equipment is this?"

"It's not for vampires," Joe replied as he searched his pockets for something other than a stake (he already had one ready in his other hand. "It's just generally for fighting… I found it in the VFBI's van… ah! Here we go!" He proudly held up a single match, which he struck against the stake's rough surface. "Make a wish!" He tossed the match into the smoke and jumped back.

Gerard swore and teleported away just as the match reached the smoke, causing it to ignite in a bright blue explosion. He appeared twenty feet away, but a burning canister flew through the air and its flames touched the fumes coming from the canister he still held. This resulted in a second, smaller explosion that blew Gerard off his feet, where he landed near Joe.

Joe had been a tiny bit too close to the explosion; his face and afro were covered in soot and he was patting out the smoldering right sleeve of his jacket. "Okay, one canister at a time from now on." He looked at Gerard and smiled mockingly. "I hope it was your birthday, because that's the last surprise present you're getting from me."

--

Pete's bottom lip throbbed in time with his heart. He had suffered fewer hits than Sorel but each hit he took had more strength.

This was hard.

"How disappointing. Wavering on your feet already?" Sorel teased.

"I'm fine. Worry about yourself, you're bleeding more than I am."

Sorel spat out a mouthful of blood. "I don't mind a little blood."

Pete didn't respond. He stood a ways away, panting, trying to think up his next move. After generally exchanging blows for about ten minutes, he was grateful he was a vampire (a rare occurrence) because he was getting tired despite that.

Sorel laughed, trying to seem in control, but it came out sounding more bitter than jovial to Pete, even standing back. "Tell you what. I've been pestered by persistent little you for so long, that you deserve a little reward. How about I give you a grand finale?"

"No thanks!" Pete ignored a slightly heavy feeling in his feet as he charged forward to Sorel.

"Haven't you learned by now that charging doesn't work?!" Sorel took out his sword. "Charge into this!" He sliced at Pete, but Pete dodged and grabbed the handle and Sorel's shoulder. "Get off, you stupid…" He tried to pull the handle away, but only succeeding in scraping Pete's sneakers across the powdery dirt on the dry ground. He tugged as hard he could and tried to kick Pete's chest to get him off, but to no avail. The sneering vampire tugged again, and the handle stretched.

--

"J-just… kidding?" Mikey mumbled in disbelief.

"Just kidding?" Andrew frowned and tapped the sword. "Patrick, what possessed you to put a fake self-destruct in my sword?"

"JUST KIDDING?!" Mikey asked again, but this time it was actually more of a roar. "I nearly wet myself! I'll kill you!" He pointed his sword at Andy, and squeezed the hidden trigger. A bullet erupted out of the barrel (which was concealed in the sword's blunt side) and missed Andrew's shoulder by an inch. Mumbling about the blade throwing the aim off, Mikey spun the sword by its handle once, which seemed to re-cock it.

Andy ducked behind a twisted, gnarled tree as Mikey hastily aimed and fired again. The bullet left a groove in the side of the tree and split a few hairs on Andy's head as it flew past him, causing him to bite his tongue so hard it started bleeding. "Ow! Dammit!" Andy yelped.

"Ooh, did I get you?" Mikey asked excitedly. "You're still talking… I'd better really aim this time." As he spun the blade in his hand again, Andy jumped out from behind the tree and ran at Mikey, swinging both rapiers frantically in front of him.

_Please try to block…_ Andy hoped as he bum-rushed his opponent. Instead Mikey grunted in surprise and hastily shot at Andy. There was a bang, a loud _PING!_ and Andrew's left hand was jerked back, followed closely by a girly scream. Andy stopped moving, trying to figure out if he had been the one screaming. Nope. The sparks coming from his now-bent trick rapier, and the fact that Mikey was on the ground clutching his bleeding leg, told a different story: "Hey! I deflected a bullet! How awesome is that?" Andrew bragged.

"Silver… bullet… in my knee…" Mikey gasped. "Please assist!"

"Hmm… looks serious," Andrew said cockily as he sauntered up to Mikey's struggling form. "And you say it's self-inflicted? I'm afraid there's nothing to do but make the patient comfortable." He pulled the rapier back to make the final thrust.

"No, please!" Mikey squeezed his eyes shut. "Gerard and I… we didn't want to do this! We didn't want to attack you guys again, we didn't care about revenge or anything, but Sorel wouldn't hear any of it! Please, just leave us be, we just want to live in peace!"

"Um…" Andy bit his lip. "Dunno how to tell you this… I've already impaled you."

"What?" Mikey looked down at the handle sticking out of his chest. His hands and feet were already blowing away in the wind. "You sure you can't… un-stake me or take it back somehow?"

Andy pulled his sword out. "I… don't think it works that way," he said uncomfortably.

"Oh…" Mikey blinked back tears. "I guess I kind of deserved it anyway…" and then Mikey was gone.

--

"WHAT THE… What the hell did you do to my sword?!"

Pete's hands were glowing. "The handle sure is cheap, whatever it is…" He looked proud as he stated the obvious, "I totally melted it."

"RAHHH!" Sorel twisted away from him and clutched his shoulder in pain. Pete had well since burnt through his jacket. "I had no idea you… you little…!" He paused to breathe heavily and glare at Pete as he seemed to be thinking what he could call him. Suddenly, he smirked. "You little… Baron." He tried to hold in his laugh. "Every day. More and more and more like him." He snickered and then went into full-blown hysterics as Pete stared at him blankly. "It's so ironic! You killed him and have been working so hard to become human again, only to become more and more like him on the journey! Oh, pure gold!" He fell back onto his butt, and tried to curb his laughter (and failed).

Pete had nothing to say. The situation was funny, indeed… he felt funny. His breath was starting to come in a different rhythm and he felt a slight, weird nausea along with something in his throat- _OH SHIT. I'm going to cry._

As if Sorel could read minds (but Pete really didn't know anymore, maybe he could!), he stared at Pete with his grin still present. "WHAT on EARTH are you looking at? ... Are… are you going to _cry_ over there?!" Now this, this just seemed hilarious to him. "Awwww, did I make the widdle Baron cry?! Does he need a little bottle of blood? Does he need his friends to burp him and tell him everything is going to be okay? Awww… why don't you go ask your friend Patrick over there - who I bet is in quite a bad state, thank you very much – for some tissues, I'm sure he specially carries them for Petey Panda and-"

"STOP IT!!" Pete tackled/charged/fell on Sorel and pinned his arms to the ground. "Shut up, you don't know anything!! You shouldn't even be talking! I hate you!" He flailed his fists around Sorel's head rapidly and caught him more than a few times.

--

Gerard watched as Mikey faded away into nothingness. "Mikey? Mikey?"

"Hey, come on, we're fighting over here," Joe snapped. "You should have known Mikey wouldn't hold up against Andy, he's just not a skilled swordsman. He used that friggin' Morningstar up until a few months ago. Dude?"

"YYYYAAAAUUUURRRRRGGGHHH!!" Gerard screamed like a wounded beast and fell to his knees without warning, his claws gouging into his face, his scalp, his sides… he was tearing into himself like his blood was on fire and he wanted it out of his body. He collapsed to the ground and began shaking and rolling around like a man possessed.

"What'd you do to him?" Andy asked, walking up a bit nervously.

"That was all you. You killed his brother in front of him."

"Yeah, that jerk made me look like the bad guy at the end!"

"I know, right? These guys have been trying to kill us for _months_, and they brought a whole regiment of motorcycle-riding elite vampires to try and do us in! So we finally get to killing off the last of them – _still_ in self-defense, mind you – and suddenly we're vilified?"

"Since when do you use words like _vilified_?"

"Beats me," Joe said with a shrug. "I must've picked it up from Screamy McClawshimself over there. He's a real know-it-all when he isn't getting pissed off about me killing those close to him."

"Aren't you worried that'll happen now?"

"We'll be fine."

"_**YOU…**_" they turned. Gerard was slowly climbing to his feet in his half-wolf form, although his voice was even more guttural than that form's usual. Blood dripped down his lupine face and seeped down the sides of his uniform. Breath came short and ragged over long, gracefully curved fangs at the end of a bloodied muzzle. "_**You two have killed all those close to me… and when I'm through, hell will seem a sweet relief to you.**_"

"You can't beat us!" Andy protested, getting down into a fighting stance (he had put away his bent trick rapier, relying solely on his silver rapier). "You couldn't beat us before, and besides, we outnumber you now!"

"_**Famous last words…**_" Gerard snarled. He disappeared and reappeared behind Andrew, who blocked Gerard's claws with his sword. Gerard bit down on Andy's blade (causing his lips to smoke from the silver) and began slashing at his chest. Andy was caught by surprise, and took several shallow cuts as he tried to pull his sword out of Gerard's jaws. Gerard wouldn't let go, and finally Andy had to drop his blade as he staggered back. Gerard spat the sword out, and teleported behind the now-unarmed vigilante.

"Andy!" Joe leapt for Gerard, but he grabbed Andy and teleported again, reappearing nearly thirty feet in the air. He pushed Andy away in mid-air, slashed him in the back once, twice, three times, and kicked him to the ground. "Crap, Andy!" Joe threw a stake at Gerard as he fell, but the mad wolf teleported again, reappearing right above Joe and slamming him to the ground.

"_**You should have run… you should have NEVER allowed us to find you…**_" There were tears in Gerard's eyes. "_**Now this place will your burial ground, stained forever with blood and sin.**_" He opened his jaws and prepared to tear Joe's throat open, but Joe shoved a gas canister in Gerard's jaws lengthwise, locking them open. He slammed a stake into the canister as hard as he could, piercing it and filling Gerard's mouth with the yellow smoke. Gerard rolled off Joe, coughing, and Joe managed to stagger away.

"Match, match, damnit, I need a match!"

"Got it…" Andy mumbled from the ground. He was bleeding badly, and his left arm looked broken where he had landed on it, but he had pulled out his bent trick rapier with his right and was fumbling with the controls. "If… just find… a lighter… FOUND IT!" the crooked tip of the sword was issuing a thin jet of translucent flame. "You love your brother so much… go see him!" He tossed the rapier, but fell short of his target, only managing to reach Gerard's feet with the rapier. Luckily, Gerard chose that moment to finally spit out the canister… right onto the flame. The resulting explosion engulfed Sorel's last remaining henchman. "Finally," Andy sighed.

"_**You'll have to do better than that…**_" Gerard walked steadily out of the burning cloud, although he looked somewhat the worse for wear. His clothing and fur were burning, and patches of exposed, charred muscle tissue were visible on his arms and chest where the flames had burnt away everything above. He pulled his head back into the air and let loose a long, mournful howl, and then teleported, reappearing above Andy where he lay on his chest in the dirt. Snarling, he stomped the deep slash marks in Andrew's back, causing him to let out a choked cry and pass out.

"DAMMIT, LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Joe threw a stake, but again, Gerard teleported out of the way. He burst back into existence right in front of Joe and drove an elbow into his gut. Joe staggered back, then jumped forward again with a haymaker punch, but Gerard dropped to the ground and simultaneously 'ported, landing behind Joe on all fours. Before Joe could turn, Gerard lashed out with both claws and slashed Joe's calves. "Ugh!" Gerard warped away again, and Joe's legs wobbled, before giving out entirely. Joe swore as he fell to his hands and knees; his tendons were slashed.

"_**Poor, poor Joe,**_" Gerard snarled. "_**Just sheep who've been playing with wolves, that's what you and your friends are. You've made a valiant effort, but when it comes right down to it, humans can't stand up to vampires in a pitched battle. I can see it in your eyes… you don't have the strength! You don't have the speed, or the ruthlessness, or the sheer force of will!**_" He grabbed Joe by the neck and lifted him back up to his shaking feet. With his other claw, he slashed and backslashed Joe's face. "_**And one more thing you don't have… another stake to fight back with.**_"

_SHUNK._ "Actually, I do," Joe said, pushing it deeper into Gerard's heart. "I've been working on my poker face." He pushed Gerard away and managed to stay standing on his own. "What _you _have is about three seconds to make your peace."

Gerard roared and vanished. Joe felt a rush of air behind him, and tried to turn, but his legs wouldn't respond… "_**I'll take you to my GRAVE!**_" He felt the dusty ghost of a claw pass through the base of his skull. If Gerard had taken a half-second longer to disintegrate, Joe would've had his spine severed.

--

Having had enough of getting hit repeatedly, Sorel shot out and smacked him hard upside the head, then threw him off to the side onto his stomach. Pete growled in frustration and curled his arms and legs up to his body.

Sorel smirked and quickly walked away. Once he was a fair bit away, he began a somewhat sluggish telekinetic process – he started creating deep slices in the dusty earth around the curled up little ball that was Pete, until he created a circle with a diameter of about twelve feet. With a deep breath, he began the hard part – lifting the mound up. _Shit. How deep did I cut it?_ Quite deep, quite deep. _Come on, come on, little by little…_ He used his mind to slowly lift the mound, inch by inch… inch by inch… little by little… Soon he had it fully out of the ground. A full minute later and much straining later, he had it ten feet up in the air. Just the mound of dirt, that is-

Pete kicked him in the face. He went sliding a few feet to the right. Dirt rained on him.

"Ha ha."

Sorel snarled and slowly pushed himself and turned to give Pete the nastiest look he could manage. He was surprised to see Pete with a peculiar, blank look on his face instead of the triumphant smirk he was expecting to see. "What are you looking at, fool?!"

"…Uhn…" Pete closed his eyes and flopped to the ground as his legs gave out from under him.


	27. Dead On Arrival: Part 6

**Update delays? Shut up, that does not sound familiar! Here's the good news: the next chapter is up and running.**

**And something haaaaapeeeennnns in this chapter. Oooooh. **

**Dead On Arrival: Part Six**

Sorel shook his head. "This is my lucky day. I think…" He stepped towards Pete, but then hesitated. "Hey short stuff, if you're knocked out, I'll just go sodomize your friends."

Pete's eyes remained closed.

"Oh!" Surprised it seemed legit, Sorel silently celebrated his luck again; he had no intention of carrying out that last threat.

He smirked. "Hey, Gerard, where the hell are you?! Look at this!" He looked around for Gerard and Mikey, but his smirk disappeared when he realized there was no one else in his vicinity standing. _Wait. _He repeated to himself that he was in control, _Because I am_, but he was fighting the gut feeling saying the opposite. He turned around to try and continue scoping the land, but Pete's fist connected hard with his face.

"Didn't know I was that good an actor!"

Sorel spat and ignored the throbbing on his cheek as he unsteadily lifted himself up. "Resorting to petty trickery? You must be getting desperate."

Pete shrugged. "I didn't think you would actually carry out the sodomizing threat. Or at least I really hoped."

"Although… I'm not surprised." He stood with his feet apart, weight balanced. "You all like to play the heroic part, but I know you're not totally innocent." Sorel crossed his arms and smirked, looking Pete up and down, surveying him for more to say. "Look at you, kid. That's all you are - a pathetic child who got caught up in the big bad world of vampirism a little too early on. And you think you're good enough to play with the big kids."

Pete cracked his knuckles, keeping his arms raised up towards his chest and face, feet placed closely together. "Feh. Make fun of me all you want. I've been a pretty good match for you lately, haven't I?"

"Up until now," Sorel disappeared.

Pete froze.

Sorel simply popped up in front of him, gave him a wide 'Ta-da!' grin, and backhanded him across the face. Pete landed in a crumpled pile off to the side, and quickly scrambled onto all fours. "You've forgotten all the little tricks I've had up my sleeve. I'm not exactly in perfect condition right now, that I'll admit, but I've still got enough to carry me through this…" He planted his foot on Pete's side and pushed him over.

Pete let out an animalistic growl and shot up, head butting Sorel in the chin. Sorel immediately recovered and grabbed Pete's wrist. "_You're_ running on empty." He began twisting his wrist. "You've forgotten who I am. I'm better than you. I've been at this much longer. I have more stamina, more strength, and more smarts. I'm better prepared."

"Well… I'm not the only one who's forgotten! I'm prepared, too… we're vampire hunters… we're equipped to take down assholes like you." Pete reached around to the back pocket of his jeans, his detained wrist sending jolts of pain into his arm in protest. He grasped a thick, sharp wooden stake. _One more left. Got enough strength to do this. Make it count. FOR THE FUCKING WIN, THE KILL._

Pete whipped out the stake.

Sorel was too shocked to react.

The stake connected-

_Thunk._

-With the metal plate Sorel kept on his chest for protection.

Pete froze once again. His mind melted into a flurry of swear words, violently scolding himself, and mental pictures coming back to him of one of their earliest confrontations on this trip in which Sorel had shown him the plate and bragged about it.

Sorel let out a loud laugh. He cracked Pete's wrist with one hand, then dropped it just as his other hand yanked Pete's hair and forced him to his knees. Pete let out a noise of distress as Sorel picked up the abandoned stake. "This took way too long. Just way too long. But I think this moment _reaaalllly_ made it all worth it."

"NO!" Patrick struggled to his feet, stumbling a bit as he lifted up the stake harpoon gun as far as it could go. He aimed it at Sorel's heart from his back. "You leave him alone!!" He shot the stake.

Sorel only had time to shout. The force of the gun allowed the stake to puncture his heart and keep shooting forward. By the time it jerked to a stop and clattered to the ground (the last of the chain it was connected to was spent), it had bored a huge hole into Sorel's chest. Pete watched, stunned, as the vampire grabbed the chain that went all the way through him with slowly disintegrating hands. "No… I can't die… I'm going to live forever… I was so close to eliminating the last threat… this must just be a bad dream from my beer, blood and Red Bull cocktail…"

Pete struggled to his feet, but Sorel suddenly let loose with a sound between a scream, a roar and a howl. Small stones, dead plant life, dirt clods and loose grains, even Patrick's hat all began to float into the air as Sorel's death rattle poured all of his telekinetic power out at once, with no real target. Huge, jagged gashes sliced their way through the ground, and a dead, twisted tree split down the middle. The gashes converged back on Sorel, and Pete gasped as he looked at his foe again. Sorel had been reduced to dust, but was still holding together in a human-shaped cloud, complete with clothing around him and the end of his arms at the chain going through him. There was another, hollow-sounding roar, and the dust cloud dispersed in a powerful shockwave that shredded the clothes it wore and threw Pete to the ground again.

Pete flopped back into a sitting position. "…Okay. I can live with that."

Joe, lying about twenty feet away with his chin resting on his hands, shouted, "HEY! That was cool!"

Pete stood up and shot Joe a dirty look. "Oh, sure. Patrick can help me, but you can't get off your ass?! I was gonna die there!"

Joe waved his hand. "Pfft. You were fine."

"…No, I totally wasn't!"

"Well, my legs are injured. Walking sucks right now."

"Where's Andy?"  
"Unconscious somewhere else."

Pete disregarded this. "I should take that cure now."

"Heyyy," Andy whined, still floating four feet in the air, stomach-down. "Pete…" He waved his arm about. "Can you help me up… down… whatever?" Suddenly, everything Sorel had been levitating in his death throes crashed to the ground, including Andy. "Never mind," he mumbled through the sandy dirt on his face.

Shadows cleared his throat.

Joe groaned and covered his head with his arms. "Oh, crap. Come _on_."

"It would be so easy to kill you all and collect the bounties," He observed, shaking his head. "You're injured and tired… it would be just so simple. I could probably take all four of you at once."

Andy kept his face in the dirt. "I'm not watching this."

Shadows looked down, then turned around and began to walk away. "Call me when you can actually present a challenge. I have bigger fish to fry."

Patrick made his way over slowly and sat slowly next to Pete, groaning like an old man as he did. "That was both somewhat insulting and a real relief."

"WE LOVE YOU TOO!" Andy lifted his head to call out to Shadows.


	28. Dead On Arrival: Part 7

**One more chapter of this ending.**

**Sorry for the delay. **

* * *

--

"For crying out _fucking_ loud, Pete, just drink the damned stuff!" Joe grabbed his thick head of hair in frustration.

"Let's count again. On three. Okay?" Andy tried, softening his voice even more in hope of compensating for Joe raising his.

"No, wait," Pete murmured to Andy. He was staring at the chunky mixture, which had been transferred to an old water jug.

"One… two…"

"DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME I SAID WAIT."

Andy sighed.

Patrick sat on the dry, dirty ground, staring at Pete. His cheek rested on his hand, his mouth hanging open in boredom. A little notepad rested at his feet that he had gotten out to take notes on the whole process, but it appeared to have come to a standstill. They were all hanging around outside, trying to prep Pete into drinking what (they _thought_) he had been working desperately towards for so long.

"Pete, if you just get it over with in one quick gulp, it won't be so bad," Andy put on his caring tone, like a parent trying to coax a little kid into sitting still for a shot. "Like a band-aid."

Pete put the cure down at his side. "That's how you pull off band-aids? Ouch, dude. You're crazy."

Joe jumped forward. "Drink it!! What the hell are you so afraid of? This is what you've been waiting for!"

Pete pouted and looked at the elixir with worried brown eyes. "But what if it hurts?"

"Of course it's gonna hurt, you idiot, this liquid is bringing you back to life."

"Thanks for the kind words."

"Do it."

"I'm gonna do it. I'm totally gonna do it." He held it out and sighed, closing his eyes briefly, getting in the zone (oh, you know what I mean). "Okay."

Patrick reached for his notepad and scribbled something.

Pete looked at him. "What are you writing?!"

Joe let out a weird yelp/shout/gag/something of pure frustration – "Gghhg! WHAT THE FUCK, DRINK IT ALREADY!!"

"Raaah!" He poured it down his throat.

Joe's mouth dropped. Andy leaned in closer to see what would happen (not really a good reaction to practice for this kind of thing). Patrick scrambled up to his feet.

There was a loud growling noise from Pete's stomach. "That's interesting."

Then a pause.

"Is that all that's gonna happen?"

Patrick looked at his notepad, then back to Pete. "I… I guess… maybe. Give it a minute."

"…Hold on. Hold on. Hold on, shit!" Pete collapsed on the ground, shaking.

"What's wrong?!"

"I think I'm gonna puke."

"Don't puke it up!!" Andy insisted. "You may, I dunno, undo it or something?!"

Pete made a string of pained noises. Patrick just stared, forgetting all about his notebook. Andy tried to shout at Pete, and Joe freaked out.

"PETE! Stay calm! Don't worry! It'll all be over soon! It's for your own good! Transport yourself to a different place!" Andy squealed. "Hold on, maaaan!"

Retching in response. "Uuuh, fuck, I think my head is going to explode or somethiiing. Fuck. _AHCK_. Get away!"

"What?"

"_GO AWAY_!" Pete spat a dark fluid.

Andy looked around. "Go where?!" But Joe grabbed him and dragged him behind the nearest large boulder, not even realizing in his panic that the RV was closer.

--

Patrick had run inside the RV. He lay on the cramped, dirty carpet, with his limbs all curled up into himself. he held his head desperately, trying to catch his breath, feeling embarassed at how close to tears he was. He didn't know what happened to Joe or Andy... or Pete, for that matter. _I'm horrible. Horrible horrible person. _He sighed and got up onto his knees. He rubbed his eyes. _Okay. Nervous breakdown, kind of needed that, get it out of my system. No sweat. _He got up and took a breath, inhaling composure and courage and exhaling guilt and a plethora of other soul-blackening feelings. _Wow. Feels like a much better philosophy than what I- or, we've been thinking for a while now. Uh, PETE!_

Patrick threw open the door and jumped out. "Sorry! Sorry, Pete! Sorry, guys! I'm back!" He grabbed his notebook, which was no kind of dirty. He had ditched it when he ran to the RV. "Guys?"

Behind a nearby, oddly singular chunk of rocky, elevated terrain was Joe and Andy. Joe had his back against the rock and was covering his eyes with his hands like he was a youngster cowering from a monster in a movie. Andy was getting up and looking over the boulder at Pete. Pete was lying on the ground with a couple of limbs curled at odd, limp angles.

Andy rubbed his hands together nervously. "Pete?" He said it quietly so that even if Pete was awake he couldn't have heard it from where he was). He stepped tentatively closer to Pete. "Pete?" He leaned over Pete. "Are you okay?"

"Is he unresponsive?" Patrick came up.

Joe was last to join the circle. "Whoa. Ohmygod. Whoa."

Pause.

Silence.

Until Joe asked, "Now what?"

"Is he okay?" Andy's voice cracked.

Joe took a deep breath, crouched down, and touched Pete's shoulder. "Hey, are you conscious? Can you hear us?"

No answer.

"Pete..." Joe carefully turned him over. "Ew!"

"What's that?" Andy looked too shocked and confused to be disgusted.

"Dark stuff," Patrick said.

Crickets chirped from fairly far away.

"Well, no shit..." Joe murmured. "It's coming out of... his face."

"Maybe it's blood," Andy said.

Patrick replied, "It could be that... and something else, though."

"Well, what?"

"I don't know."

"You're the smart one," Joe's remark sounded accusatory.

"It could be..." Patrick paused. "Liquid... vampirism. I don't know."

"Gross. Don't get any on you."

Silence.

Andy again. "Let's take him back inside."

"How?"

"It doesn't matter, anyhow!" Andy stopped fiddling with his hands. "I don't want to sit here and look at him with goo on his face, all unconscious-like. It's not okay. I want to go back inside. I want to wait for him to wake up, and he's gonna be human, and... yeah, it's all gonna be uphill from there. We can deal with new problems. And get over these old, horrible people like Sorel and The Baron." Andy took a breath and thought about it. "And that's it."

Joe started clapping. He ignored the sounds of wheels puling up near them.

Andy man-giggled. "Thank you, thank you."

"Heyyy," was a new voice.

"Shit," Patrick said aloud.

"What happened to him?" Claire pointed at Pete and looked very worried.

"He looks like he'll be fine," Braids said.

"Owwch!" Noodles said. She inexplicably made it sound foreign.

"What are you guys doing here?" Patrick sighed for the whole sentence.

"We came because we heard there was going to be a biggie fight. A showdown of _epic proportions!_" Claire carefully pronounced 'epic proportions'. "A big shindig."

"You heard that? Really?" Joe laughed. "What is that, vampire gossip?"

Andy poked Pete.

"I didn't really hear that," Claire said.

"...What?" Patrick rubbed his face. "...Okay..."

"But I could tell it was gonna happen."

"Oh, really?" Patrick laughed but didn't seem to think it was very somehow. "That apparent?"

"YAH," Claire nodded. Suddenly she stuck her foot out. "OH! Look at my boots! They're all platform and leather and goth-ish! I got them at HOT TOPIC!" She said that like it was the greatest thing in the world, like, you don't even know how great it is, you can't even comprehend! She squealed, smiled, and bounced up and down a bit. "Don't I look like a whore?!"

"Yeah," Patrick nodded and smiled politely. Andy and Joe carried Pete into the RV. Patrick acknowledged this, but then turned back to Claire and her gang.

"So did we miss something?" Claire asked.

Patrick motioned for them to come closer. They didn't waste a moment doing so. Patrick leaned in and reached into his hoodie pocket. "I have something I want you guys to do for me."

"Sure!" Claire said without bothering to find out what it was first.

"Even though we have tons of stuff to do," Braids lied.

"I have a quest for you guys."

Group gasp. Claire repeated, her blue eyes shining, "A _quest_?! WOWIE!"

Patrick nodded again and took the recipe for the cure out of his pocket. "A mission..."

--


	29. Dead On Arrival: Part 8

_Pete was back in the warehouse. Their homey, old warehouse. He had his arms wrapped around himself, so he must have been cold, but he really didn't know. He was looking around at the place they had lived in for years. It felt like he had just woken up there after a normal day's sleep. _

_But The Baron was right there in front of him. He was clapping his gloved hands and laughing, his white, fanged, eerie grin shining from under the brim of his fedora. _

_Pete bared his teeth as his breathing quickened. "Go away! This is _my_ house!"_

_The Baron stopped laughing and clapping to just smile at him. "You wish."_

"AAagh!" Pete jolted upright. He was in the RV, he was on his uncomfortably small sofa bed, and the blinds were, as usual, closed. At the moment, a painkiller or six also sounded really good for about ten different reasons, but he first considered waking up the others. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning with a family still sleeping. _Except there may not be any presents under my tree_. Thinking about how vaguely sexual that sounded, he swung his feet out of bed and landed on Andy.

"Uuuuhn!" Andy gasped. "What? What's happening?" He shook his head as Pete stumbled away. "Get your Pete feet away from me… oh hey, wait, you're awake!" He grabbed his glasses from the table and put them on as he got up from under the quilt he wrapped himself up in on the floor. "Are you okay? How do you feel? Did it work? Can I see your teeth? Do you have a pulse? What's up?!"

Pete stared back at him with wide eyes. He just stared, then said, "Why are you lying on the floor next to my bed?"

Andy rolled his eyes. "Well, Pete, I'm sorry. You _didn't _just undergo some huge transformation that involves you gaining life back in your body."

Now that Pete's being difficult had been responded to with sarcasm, he couldn't just back down. He crossed his arms over his pale bare chest. "That doesn't explain why you're sleeping next to me. Maybe more happened to me than I thought after I took that mixture."

Andy smiled and gave a little happy hop in the air. "Hey! WHY are we arguing?! You're not a vampire anymore! Wake the others! We need to celebrate and-" He stopped short. "You're not a vampire anymore, right?"

Pete was back to wide-eyed staring. "I-I-I don't know. I think. I should. I should, I mean, not be… I haven't tested it. I don't know!"

Andy thought about it for a second. He took out his cell phone and checked the time. "Well, it's about nine A.M. I know one way for sure we could check."

"No… wait, don't-!" Pete shrank to the floor as Andy whipped the blinds open.

Nothing happened.

Pete remained curled in a little ball.

Andy laughed. "Stop that! You need to get a tan! Starting now!"

Pete remained curled up in the middle of the patch of sunlight, but murmured. "Hooollllyyy shittuh."

"WHAT is that friggin' LIGHT?" Joe took a long time and a lot of noise getting out of bed. He finally did and walked up to where Pete was. Sleepy as he was, Joe spent a while looking at Pete and the window. Finally, it clicked. He smiled, pointed at Pete, and shouted, "MORTAL!"

Pete finally straightened himself up. "That wasn't the first word I thought of, but-" Interrupted by a tackle-hug-assault from Joe.

"That was a _tackle glomp_!" Joe announced a few seconds after he got up. "I read about them online! I always thought to myself, 'Oh, it would be funny to tackle glomp Pete just to see what he'd do!' But then I knew you'd beat the crap out of me because you're a vampire! Now you can't, 'cause you're NOT, and I wasn't going to do it anyway, but I'm just…" Long breath. "EXCITED 'cause you're mortal and normal now."

Pete got up. "Well, I also can't HEAL like normal anymore, so keep that in mind. But that was a pretty good monologue otherwise."

"I'm gonna squeal like a little girl!" Andy said.

Patrick joined the happy circle. "Congratulations, Pete!"

Pete made a face at his mellow congrats. "Nice buzz kill, Patrick."

Patrick looked offended. "_Sorry_."

Pete suddenly looked horrified. "Wait… wait… this isn't right… I still have a fang!"

The offense on Patrick's face turned to confusion. "Only one?"

"You've also got a little red on you," Andy said.

"Huh?"

"On your chin."

Pete rubbed at it. "That's… that's blood."

Andy turned to Joe. "Why'd you tackle glomp him?!"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time!"

"I'm going to the mirror!" Pete pushed past them, but stopped and grabbed his foot. "OH, what the fuck?!"

Patrick bent down. "This is… your other fang." He showed it to him. There was some blood on it.

"What the _fuck_?" Pete repeated.

Patrick didn't respond for a second. He thought about it, then nodded. "Wait, oh. Ohhh. I see what happened." He raised up his hand. "Open your mouth."

Pete opened his mouth.

Patrick quickly reached in and popped out the other fang with ease. He smiled while he looked at the fangs. "You want to keep these for nostalgia's sake?"

Pete went over to the mirror anyway. "No fangs! It looks so… weird!" His look turned to another one of horror.

Patrick grabbed his hat (of course he was wearing a hat this entire time). "What?! What is it now?!"

Pete blinked. "I'm shirtless!"

"…What?"

"Did you guys UNDRESS me after I passed out?" He gave them a look that said_ I'm severely violated._

Patrick didn't say anything. He looked at the other two for backup, but Andy looked away and Joe actually said, "You are so on your own with this one."

Patrick gathered his defense and said, "Well, sorry, I didn't know how horribly uncomfortable you were at the time. I thought you might be more comfortable, I don't know, shirtless. I left your pants on!"

"And you took of my shoes and socks!" Pete continued. "You touched my feet! No one should ever touch my feet!"

"Once AGAIN, I'm SORRY, I didn't know you were such DELICATE SPECIMEN and that I did not proceed with PROPER HANDLING."

Pete gave him a last look, mumbled, "Friggin' taking my shirt off," and turned back to inspect his teeth. The other three watched him. After a moment or so, Pete went to the little closet to find a t-shirt while he decided to just be honest and ask, "So what the hell do you want to do now?"

"I want breakfast," Andy said.

"No, I meant for the rest of our lives."

Andy's mouth dropped. "…Oh."

"Well, what do you have in mind, Pete?" Joe asked.

Pete put a purple hoodie on next. "I don't know. You guys have been spending a lot of time doing stuff for me. Like getting me a cure and stuff. What do _you_ want to do?"

"It might be a little late to do something like go to college," Patrick said. "The only other things that come to mind are settling down in a small town and starting a little business, or we could move to a big city and live a fast-paced urban life."

"Or we could continue vampire hunting!" Andy said. Then he man-giggled. "And one of us might get bitten and vampirized and start the whole crazy thing over again." He sighed with a hint of nostalgia.

"Hey! Guess what! We should get breakfast!" Joe said.

"I really want an egg sandwich thing," Pete agreed.

"I'll drive," Patrick volunteered. "I'll drive us out of the middle of semi-forested nowhere."

Joe nodded and grinned. "You drive! We'll eat!"

"Holla!" Andy said.

"Did you just say 'holla'?"

"I might have said 'holla'…"


End file.
